Hunt
by LacksCreativity
Summary: Earth Bet was defined by the presence of the Endbringers. Cities were destroyed, nations fell. Laws and treaties were written, all to allow the world to survive their presence. But what if they never existed, something else taking their place? Monsters from another world. What consequences might it have for the heroes and villains trying to live their lives in the shadow of giants?
1. The Formidable Velocidrome!

This is a fanfiction crossover of Worm and Monster Hunter. I claim no ownership of either property, nor any connection to those who do own them. This work is meant for entertainment only. Any similarities to any people, situations, or properties beyond those mentioned above are purely coincidental.

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 **Chapter One: The Formidable Velocidrome!**

I woke to a gentle rocking, and the smell of wet soil. Planks of wood greeted me as I opened my eyes, creaking slightly as the cart moved, just loud enough to hear over the sound of the wheels.

"Pretty ballsy, falling asleep in Pangaea."

I blinked the sleep from my eyes. High hills and deep forests passed by outside the cart, all in shades of green. The sun was high in a cloudless sky, and its reflection sparkled off a nearby stream. Some kelbi were drinking there, distinguishable from deer only by their green coloration, strange horns, and tufted beards. One of them glanced up as the cart rolled by, then flicked an ear and went back to drinking.

"My first time here," I said. "Doesn't seem so bad."

"Yeah, it doesn't look like much. It's... what do you call it..."

I glanced at my traveling companion. She wore a black body suit, armored at the elbows and knees, with a number of black belts, black pouches, and a black cloak with the hood up. It stood out against the pale wood of the cart, and the green landscape beyond it. She looked almost like a shadow. Only her mask broke that impression, and then only because the black metal was shined enough to be reflective. She snapped her fingers a few times, thinking, and the action didn't fit her appearance. Too casual, especially given the mask's stern, disapproving glare.

"Deceptive?" I suggested, smiling at the contrast.

She shrugged and looked away, sending a little ripple through her cloak. "Close enough," she said. "I've been here a few times. Don't let your guard down. There's trouble more times than there isn't."

The cart rattled and bumped, going over a piece of rough ground, probably similar to whatever had woken me up. I sat up, scooting back on the bench and putting my shoulders against the metal bands that curved around the cart, riveted to the wood. Thick, dull, and rust-spotted, but still obviously armor. Another reminder that we weren't in a safe place.

"Haven't slept in a few days," I said. "I should be good now." She didn't respond, and I searched for a name. Failed. "Been a busy week," I added. "Can't remember if we introduced ourselves before."

"We didn't," she told me. "You were already asleep when I boarded at the Boston portal. I'm Shadow Stalker, by the way."

"Hunter," I said.

She cocked her head, far enough to be an obvious affectation. Common, in people that wore a mask long enough. A way to convey emotions when nobody ever saw your face. Curiosity, this time, I thought. "Cape name, real name, or job description?" she asked.

"The first, and maybe the third. I don't give out my real name. Mask stays on," I said, tapping the chain mesh that covered my nose and mouth.

She chuckled. It wasn't a friendly sound, and her mask's expression made it just a bit ominous. I didn't know her power, after all.

"Okay, Mr. mask-stays-on, that's fine by me," she said. "Kinda arrogant though, don't you think? Calling yourself a hunter on your first trip here? Unless you've hunted something back home?"

"Nah," I said. "Maybe it is arrogant."

She waited for a moment, but I didn't add anything. "Whatever," she said. "So, you're headed to Philadelphia too? Answering the call to join the Protectorate's little-league? Not that I really care or anything. Just making conversation. It's been boring as fuck so far, sitting here listening to you snore."

"Sorry," I said. "And yeah, I'm heading to Philly. Guess that makes us teammates."

She chuckled again, the same unfriendly sound. "I don't do teammates," she said. "Not unless someone makes me. I'm in this for me."

"Fair enough," I said.

She tilted her head again. "That all?"

"Sure," I replied. "I don't really care either."

She paused for a moment, maybe thinking, then nodded. "Good. Yeah, I like that. No reason to-"

She was interrupted by a sudden hammer of sound. Heavy, thumping wingbeats and a rush of wind, very close. A huge shadow passed over us, blotting out the sun for a moment, and the cart jerked to an abrupt halt. Shadow Stalker nearly tumbled out of her seat, catching herself with a black-gloved hand against the rusty armor. She reached under the bench and snatched a pair of little crossbows out of a wooden crate, but the sound and shadow were gone as soon as they appeared.

"Shit," she said, tension in her voice. "I told you there's trouble more times than not."

I leaned over the edge of the cart and looked up, past the canvas roof. The sky was clear. "Seems to have passed us by."

"Maybe. Maybe not," she countered, standing up, a crossbow in each hand. "But whatever that was, it was big. I'm gonna go check on the driver, see what's up."

"I'll join you," I said, picking up my sword and shield. I stood, attaching the shield to my arm and sheathing the short, curved sword at my back, just below my waist.

Shadow Stalker paused a moment, looking me up and down, examining my gear. I turned to her and spread my arms, giving her a better view. Helmet, breastplate, and shoulder pads, all made of thick metal, with chain – heavier than the stuff I used for my mask – backing them, and rough blue cloth underneath. My boots and gloves were leather, rugged.

She nodded, then trotted up the length of the cart, weaving around and between stacks of crates and sealed, wooden barrels that filled the admittedly large space between the benches on either side.

I caught up as she brushed past the curtain at the front of the compartment, then followed her up the steps to the driver's bench. He was older than us, probably in his twenties or thirties, wearing armor not much lighter than mine. A huge rifle lay on the seat beside him, drawn and then quickly forgotten. The reason was obvious. The aptonoth that pulled the cart was reared up in its harness, the huge gray beast turning from side to side, it's bladed tail swishing back and forth and its crested head questing, looking at the sky.

"Trouble?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Rathalos," he said through gritted teeth. His voice was rough, gravely, and he didn't face us, his efforts focused on the reins, striving to get his multi-ton beast of burden under control. I didn't give him good odds, as agitated as the thing looked.

"What's got it so worked up?" I asked.

"I told you, a rathalos," the driver snapped, angry. "Flew right over us, holding a dead calf. Ella must have smelled it or something."

I frowned. Rathalos were bad news. Most capes wouldn't take them on outside of full hunting teams. Too big, too tough, and too quick in the air to pin down easily. They'd become an escalating problem since two thousand and nine, appearing in increasing numbers.

"Is it likely to come back?" I asked. If it did, we wouldn't have much of a chance against it.

"You deaf?" the driver asked. "I said it had a calf, didn't I? It'll be heading back to its nest to eat, not worrying about us. Besides, if it does, I've got its number."

He reached to the side, toward his rifle, and my eyebrows started to rise before I saw what he meant. Beside the rifle, on the edge of the seat, was a wooden box, open-topped, sectioned into squares and filled with small, round objects. He patted the box. "Flash bombs, sonic bombs, and dung bombs. Few of these would send it on its way."

"Wait, you carry shit balls with you?" Shadow Stalker asked, abandoning her survey of the sky to stare at him.

"I do, and you should too," the driver stated. "If you were smart, anyhow. Sight, sound, and smell. Most monsters are too tough to hurt without some serious power on your side, but their senses are as keen as any animal's. Sting 'em a bit, give 'em a nose-full of dung, and they'll turn tail as quick as they're able."

"Well, you do you," Shadow Stalker said, turning away. She took a few steps across the seat, then jumped off the side. Her cloak flared out as her power activated, her body flashing into transparent wisps. She drifted the ten feet to the ground before solidifying again and stalking away.

I made to follow her, then paused and turned back to the driver. "Just out of curiosity, wouldn't Ella be scared by the bombs too?"

The driver stopped his struggle for a moment to squint at me. "Yeah, but at least I can control which direction she goes, and its better than getting your guts ripped out."

"Strong point," I said, and turned away, hopping down after Shadow Stalker.

My armor was heavy. I hit the ground hard, knees bent, but easily took the impact, then straightened up and looked around. Shadow Stalker was already a dozen feet ahead of me, prowling around the side of the cart. I followed, casting a quick glance around us.

When I'd boarded, it had been at the New York station, just inside the portal, and I'd got on from a raised platform. Seeing the cart from the ground, it was huge, close to three times my height, just as wide, and over twice that long. As big as some buildings. It had to weigh ten or fifteen tons, and its wheels were appropriately sized in comparison, massive structures of wood and metal taller than I was. Even with the bushes and knee-high grass all around us, I could tell they left impressively deep ruts in the earth.

Ella, too, was impressive when seen from ground-level. Almost as long as the cart, she had to be ten feet at the shoulder, with a narrow ridge running down her back that added another foot or two to her height. Reared up as she was, she had to be over fifteen feet high.

I caught up to Shadow Stalker quickly, and she cast a look at me over her shoulder, her mask and general bearing making it just shy of hostile. "You need something?" she asked.

"Not really," I said, falling into step beside her. We finished our circle of the cart – staying well away from Ella – then moved away. Shadow Stalker crouched down, brushing away the grass, then stood up and kept walking.

"I said I don't do the teammate thing," she told me.

"You did."

She glanced at me again, then snorted. "Whatever," she said, then pointed toward something ahead of us. "Look."

I did, and saw what she meant almost immediately. Faint impressions in the dirt, below a small tree. Footprints. Sharp, three-toed, with the occasional scratch that indicated a fourth claw held higher, off the ground.

"Fresh?" I asked.

She nodded. "You can tell by the edges, and the fact that nothing's settled in them yet. If there was grass in them, the color could tell us more. Brighter green, less wilted, fresher print."

"You know what made them?"

She shook her head at that. "No, just that it's probably a predator, and its close. Could be that the rathalos stole its prey, in which case its either dead, or pissed off and still hungry. We should move."

"I'm not sure we can. Not until the driver has Ella settled," I said. I stood under the tree, hands on my hips, looking around. Taking in the terrain. "We could hunt it," I suggested. "By the tracks, its not too big, and there's two of us. Two capes against one small monster. Good odds."

Shadow Stalker stopped, then turned to face me full on. She looked me up and down again, appraising.

"Ballsy," she said. "Or stupid."

"I'd prefer to think I'm not stupid," I told her.

She snorted. "Alright. You want to hunt, let's hunt. I could use the workout." She tilted her head. Considering, this time, rather than curious. "Plus, I get to see if my future teammate can fight."

"I thought you didn't do the teammate thing."

"I can make exceptions," she said, turning on her heel, her cloak flaring out around her. She cast a look at me over her shoulder. "For sufficiently ballsy individuals."

I felt my lips tug up into a smile, and my heartbeat sped up. It had been a while since I'd been in a fight. "I'll do my best not to disappoint."

"Good," she said. "Try to keep up."

With that, she took two steps and jumped, flashing into a transparent shadow, her leap extending far beyond what should have been possible. I took off after her, speeding up, my armor brushing against the tall grass, swishing it away.

I caught up to her quickly, and she glanced toward me, her mask barely visible in her altered state, translucent. She changed back, hit the ground, and ran beside me, before jumping and shifting again. Her cloak caught the wind, pulling her forward in her wispy state, her head tracking back and forth. She saw something and angled her cloak, changing direction to land beside it. She crouched for an instant, then took to the air again in another long leap.

I passed the spot a moment later and saw what had caught her eye. More footprints. Fresher. She'd seen them from the air, followed them.

Impressive.

We continued like that for a few minutes, and I left the tracking to her, devoting my effort to not falling behind, and keeping my ears and nose open for any surprises. We passed a small copse of trees, jumped over the stream I'd seen earlier, and moved through a valley between some hills, finally coming to a stop in sight of a small watering hole.

"You're quick," Shadow Stalker whispered as I crouched down beside her, hidden in the grass. She reached out to tap my armor. "Especially with all this."

I nodded, but didn't respond, focusing on catching my breath.

"Down there," she said, nodding toward the watering hole. No, beyond it. There was a blue shape there, in the grass. Striped with black, it was surprisingly hard to see. It lay in a slight depression, and for a moment I thought it might be dead, possibly killed by the rathalos. Then it raised its head, scenting the air.

"Crap, we're upwind," Shadow Stalker muttered as it stood up.

"Well, we came to hunt it in the first place," I said, my voice low.

"Suppose you're right," she said, leaning forward. "You want to go in first, or follow my lead?"

"I'll go," I said, standing up and striding forward.

The monster saw me right away, its head snapping into line, eyes focused. It was a slender thing, but not as small as I'd thought. Taller than I was, with a long neck and tail, it held itself almost like a bird. Upright on its hind legs, its forelegs close to its body. Its underside was pale, and it had what looked like a beak, bright yellow. It's head was topped with a swept-back crest, shockingly red, almost like blood.

I saw all that in passing, though. As it started toward me, darting forward in quick hops, what really attracted my attention was its claws. The ones on its forelegs were long, thin, and red, meant for grabbing or slashing. The ones on its feet, when I could see them around the grass, were shorter, except for the innermost, which was long and wickedly curved. The way it jumped, so quickly and easily, that was going to be dangerous.

It rounded the watering hole, crouched down, and uttered a warbling cry, half chirp and half shriek. Then it leapt. It caught me off-guard, the speed of it, and the length of the jump. It had to be at least fifty feet. But that distance gave me a moment to act. I raised my shield, whipped my free hand to my back, and drew my sword, slashing forward in the same motion.

The monster made contact, I didn't. Claws hammered into my shield. Even braced, the impact took me off my feet, and I tumbled backward. I hit the ground hard and rolled once, twice, catching brief, flashing moments of movement as the thing advanced, beak wide and full of thin, needle-like teeth. I scrambled to get my feet under me and sprung upward, my sword leading the way.

It hopped backward, fast enough that my sword caught only air, and the lack of expected impact sent me stumbling. I caught myself and took a stance, sword at my side, shield slightly forward.

The monster shuffled to one side, then the other, quick steps, head bobbing as it looked at me with wide yellow eyes. It made it look even more bird-like. It opened its mouth and let out a rattling sound, its throat vibrating, then started pacing around me with careful, delicate steps. Observing, waiting for me to make a move.

I obliged it, bursting into a run, straight toward it. Risky. It was taller than me, faster, with longer limbs and better reach. If I went high it could come at me from below with its sickle-like talons, and if I went low it could come from above with claws and teeth, and it could almost certainly take a hit better than I could.

If I'd been alone, it would have been a stupid move.

Shadow Stalker ghosted in from behind the monster, nearly transparent, not even disturbing the grass as she moved. She raised her arms, dead silent, and two crossbow bolts flashed out, black streaks that materialized halfway into the creature's flank.

It spun with a shriek, high-pitched, a sound of almost comical shock, and I barely held in a laugh as I barreled into it sword-first and slashing. My first strike knocked its arm away and chipped a claw, my second took it at the base of the neck, drawing blood. Then we collided, and I braced my shield against it, heaving. It was big, but I was strong, and it toppled. I followed it down, aiming for the head.

It was the wrong move. The monster was too quick, too agile. Even as it fell one of its feet lashed out, and I couldn't get my shield into place in time. Its wicked claw took me in the chest, and metal shrieked, drowning out the whoof of air as it knocked the breath out of me.

The next thing I knew I was on the ground coughing. I'd never taken a hit that hard before. Hadn't braced right, hadn't rolled with it. But, shockingly, it didn't hurt, at least not enough to feel through the adrenaline that rushed through me as the monster vaulted to its feet, light as a bird. It started forward, and I might have just imagined it, but I thought its eyes widened in surprise as I vaulted upright almost as quickly, and this time I couldn't hold in my laugh.

"Come on!" I taunted, holding my arms out, leaving myself open. Those wide yellow eyes narrowed, slit-pupils contracting, and it rattled out another hiss, throat vibrating. "Come on buddy! It's all for you!"

It didn't take the invitation. Either it was too clever, or something gave her away, because as Shadow Stalker moved to take advantage of my distraction, the thing spun, its tail whipping into her – through her – and even in her shadowy state she tumbled to the ground, a choked sound coming from behind her mask.

I rushed forward without thinking, feet pounding at the ground, and before the monster could round on me again I leapt, sword-arm swinging, and brought my blade down as hard as I could, taking it high in the leg.

Scales parted, blood flowed, but despite taking the heaviest swing I could manage, the cut was still shallow. The thing was tough. Far tougher than something so slender should be. But tough or not, it was still light. It went down again.

This time I didn't try to go to the mat with it. I took two quick, shuffling steps forward and intercepted a kick with my shield. It stopped my momentum cold, even pushed me back a few inches, but that didn't matter. I was inside its guard now, and my sword flashed out once, twice, three times, drawing blood from its stomach, its leg, and its tail.

Black streaks came in from behind it. Shadow Stalker, peppering its back and head with a series of one-two shots, as quick as she could reload. They sunk in far deeper than my sword could, deeper than such little crossbows should have been able to manage, but I wasn't going to complain, especially not when one of them darkened an eye, turning the yellow orb red.

With that, I saw the end of the fight.

I gave a quick shout and slashed at its arm, then planted my shield on the writhing creature and vaulted over it, to the side Shadow Stalker had just blinded. It was still quick, even hurt as it was, and it was on its feet almost instantly, spinning around, doing its best not to let me out of its sight. But I'd been expecting it, and I was ready. My eyes snapped to its neck, where I'd cut it before. Blood was trickling out from the shallow wound, staining its pale throat, and in the brief moment where it didn't know where I was, I aimed there again.

A cut, using its own momentum added to my strength. For the first time, my blade bit deep. The monster shrieked, but not in anger. This time the sound was panicked and wet.

After that, it was over. It collapsed, blood pumping from its throat. Its movements slowed, then weakened, and quickly stopped.

I stood there, panting, watching it until it stilled. Then my eyes searched for Shadow Stalker. She was sitting up, one hand pressed to her chest, the other supporting her as she leaned forward, head hanging. I trotted over to her. Her cloak was stained in places, green and brown. Crushed grass and mud, the smells sharp and obvious. But no blood.

"You alright?" I asked. "Need first aid?"

"Fuck off, I'm fine," she said, her voice raspy. She took her hand away from her chest, waving me off. I took a step back.

"It looked bad, when its tail got you," I said.

"I thought the same, when it kicked you," she said.

I shrugged. "I'm tough."

"Yeah, no kidding," she said, looking up at me. I straightened up and spread my arms. "I said fuck off, I'm not checking you out," she snapped, then climbed to her feet, wavering and unsteady.

"Didn't think you were," I told her. "Figured you wanted to see if I was hurt."

"I didn't," she said. She took a moment to roll her shoulders, then moved her head from side to side.

"You sure you're alright?" I asked.

"Positive," she said. "I've been hit harder."

"Huh. That's a bit impressive."

She snorted, then stalked past me, toward the dead monster. "A velocidrome," she said. "We were lucky. They're not usually alone."

Belatedly, I remembered reading about them. Pack hunters. The smaller ones that the big one lead were called velociprey. They primarily hunted aptonoth. Which meant it was probably a good thing we'd taken it down.

"Maybe the rathalos scared them? Scattered the pack?" I suggested, coming to stand beside her.

"Yeah, probably. Either way, we'll need proof of a kill if we want to collect a bounty," she said, then glanced at my sword, still dripping blood. "Think you can take its head off with that thing?"

"Not sure," I said, holding up my blade and eyeing it. "It didn't cut nearly as well as I was expecting."

Shadow Stalker snorted. "Worked pretty good, I thought. These things are supposed to have scales harder than steel."

"I know," I said. "Still expected more. It's part of my power. Things I make are... better, I guess. If I meet the right conditions."

"Huh," she said. "I pegged you for a brute, the way you took those hits. You saying you're a tinker?"

"I'm both," I explained. "And more. You know what cluster triggers are?"

"Ah, got it," she said.

"I've got strength, toughness, enhanced senses, and a tinker power that lets me make things from stuff I loot after a fight," I continued. "I made the sword and shield from armor I took off a villain. They're stronger and sharper than they should be."

"Okay, don't care," she said, then paused and turned to me. "Wait, you fought a villain? You said you'd never been in a fight."

"I said I'd never hunted anything," I corrected her. "I've been in tons of fights."

"Oh my god, fucking really?" she asked. "Fucking... what's the word..."

"Semantics?" I asked, grinning.

"Oh fuck off!" she said, swinging a punch at my arm. She hit surprisingly hard, and didn't flinch, despite my armor.

"Impressive," I said.

"Fuck off a hundred times," she said, flipping me off, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

I couldn't help it, I laughed again. She stared at me, and I shrugged. "We won," I said, gesturing to the dead velocidrome. "We killed a monster. What can I say? I'm happy."

"You're an asshole when you're happy, you know that?"

"I do."

She turned away and shook her head, exasperated. Then she stopped, turned back to me.

"Okay, just thinking out loud here, but you say you can make stuff from stuff you win in a fight, right?" she asked.

"More or less," I said. "There's conditions."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Listen, we just fought that thing, and won, right?" she said, gesturing at the monster.

My eyes went wide.

"Holy shit. We did," I said.

"And like, it's scales are harder than steel, so-"

"I get it! Move!" I said, stepping past her. She kicked my ankle as I passed, but I ignored her and crouched down. I dropped my sword, hands hovering above the creature's scales, darting and touching. I pinched at them, then reached out for a limp arm, leaned in to examine the claws.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, this could work. Keep watch, cover me."

"I don't follow your fucking orders," she said, but I barely heard her. I had my utility knife out, already prying and scraping.

"The crest is strong," I muttered. "Horn, almost. Dense scales, fused? Maybe. Hide under the scales is almost as tough as they are, but it's pliable. Supple. Holy shit."

I started cutting, putting my weight into it, sawing at the barely dead flesh.

"Wait, you're doing it here? Now?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Best time. Like I said, conditions. Fuck, I wish I had my smelter."

"It's like, scales and shit," she said. "What are you gonna smelt?"

"This," I said, tapping my sword where it lay on the ground beside me. "Conditions. Works best if I improve, rather than replace. Takes less material. I get more out of it. Whatever, I'll make do. Cold-hammer it."

"Whatever," she muttered, turning away. "Do your thing, I guess. I'll keep watch."

"Thanks," I said, and got to work. I lost myself in it, cutting, hammering. Hide and scales, peeled off and stretched. Claws cut, trimmed. Glue made from the tendons and bones, ground down and mixed with water. I barely knew what I was doing. Had no idea how long it took.

Eventually I sat back, a silly grin on my face, surrounded by my tools and a mess of discarded parts.

"Done," I stated, holding up my work. A sword and shield, still, but more than they had been. Blue striped with black, hide and scales, for the body of both, stretched over metal and wood. Pale hide from the belly for the grips. Red claws tipped the edge of the shield, and the blade of the sword was bright crimson, made from the sharpened crest.

They were jagged, almost primitive to look at. Made with improvised techniques in bad conditions. But I knew they were strong.

"That fast?" Shadow Stalker asked, stepping over to me.

"I guess so," I said. "How long was I at it?"

"Like, fifteen minutes," she said. "Doesn't tinker shit usually take a lot of work?"

"Condi-"

"Fuck off!" she said, swinging another punch at my shoulder. "Say conditions one more time, I dare you."

"You asked," I pointed out.

She ignored me, turning to the mangled remains. "What're we gonna take for proof of kill?" she asked.

"What's left of the head, maybe?" I suggested, hefting my sword. "Might as well test this out."

"Go for it," she said.

It wasn't easy. My blade was lighter now, sharper, but the monster's flesh was still iron-hard, and it took a few minutes of hacking to get through muscle and bone, even as thin as it was.

"I wish we had more time," I said as I stood up, the severed head gripped in my hand. "I could do a lot more here."

"Yeah, well, we don't," Shadow Stalker said. "The cart's gonna be moving soon, if it's not already, and it won't be long before something else nasty smells the blood and comes looking for a free meal."

"Yeah, you're right. I know," I said. "Just wishful thinking."

"C'mon, let's go," she said, turning and starting to walk away.

"Yeah," I repeated, moving to follow her. I stopped for a moment, looking back at the carcass. "Next time, though."

"Sure," she said. "Next time."


	2. Sinking Feeling

**Chapter Two: Sinking Feeling**

"I can't believe you fell asleep again."

I looked around the Philadelphia portal station, ignoring Shadow Stalker. It wasn't nearly as busy as the New York station had been, probably because the city only had one portal, rather than seven. A terminus, rather than a nexus, if I was remembering the terminology right. Just a handful of platforms to load and unload carts, all of them empty except the one we'd just left.

"Not much security here," I said.

"You ignoring me?" Shadow Stalker asked, stepping up beside me. Her voice had a dangerous edge to it.

"Yeah," I admitted.

She swung a fist at me, aiming just under my armpit, where my breastplate didn't cover. I had chainmail there, and I barely felt it.

"Even if I was naked, that wouldn't have hurt," I told her, turning in her direction.

"You want me to try and hurt you?" she asked. Almost growled.

"Nope," I said. "Well, a bit. But not now. We've got somewhere to be."

"Good," she said, swinging another, lighter punch at my shoulder. "Then don't ignore me."

"No promises," I said. "I haven't eaten in a while. Makes it hard to concentrate."

She stood still for a moment, then her mask tilted downward. I followed her gaze to the jerky clasped in my blood-splattered glove. Reminded of it, I took another bite, sliding the dried meat below the chain mesh that covered my mouth and tearing off a piece. I chewed slowly, letting it soften up before swallowing.

"You've been eating since we got off the cart," Shadow Stalker said, looking up at me again. "This is like, your fifth piece of that shit."

"It's not shit," I said around another mouthful. "It's aptonoth jerky. Way more nutritious than beef." She held her stare, silent, and I couldn't help but think that her mask was probably pretty reflective of her real expression. "I sleep a lot," I said, addressing her previous question. "I eat a lot. Part of my power. Keeps me strong, helps me heal. This is just a snack."

"You could have just said that in the first place," she said, turning away and continuing deeper into the station, heading for a hallway labeled 'civilian disembarkation'. I followed her, looking around as we went. The whole station was made of rough-cut stone, along with locally harvested wood. Built tough, obviously, and for obvious reasons.

"I could have," I said, eventually. "So why's the security so light, you think?"

"You never been through a portal before?" she asked, then stopped. "Right, you said it was your first trip. You're from New York? Just guessing, since you were on the cart before me."

"Yep."

She waited for me to continue for a moment, then went on, sounding a bit exasperated. "Well, this is a new portal, and there's only the one in the city. No point bringing a ton of stuff inside yet, so they keep the security on the Earth Bet end of things."

"Ah," I said. "Makes sense."

We reached the portal a moment later, though I could only tell because the building materials of the station changed abruptly. From stone and wood to concrete, metal, and plastic. There were more signs, too, as well as doors and hallways. I saw a bathroom and debated a quick stop, but Shadow Stalker ignored it, heading straight for the front desk.

At the desk, a woman in a blue suit with a shield logo on the chest looked up at us. She glanced over our costumes, still dirty – and in my case bloody – from the fight, and gave us a sincere-looking but obviously fake smile.

"Hello, welcome to the Philadelphia portal station," she said. "How can I help you?"

"Shadow Stalker and Hunter," she said, sticking a thumb over her shoulder in my direction. "We should be expected. How's this going to work?"

The receptionist started talking, and I tuned her out, looking around. This part of the station was much more familiar to me, much like the one I'd boarded at before the trip, if newer looking. That might just have been the lack of traffic, though. As far as I could tell we were the only people there, though I had no idea if that was normal or not.

I did, however, note the security that Shadow Stalker had mentioned. Several guards armed with comically oversized guns, big enough that they had to rest them on the ground rather than wear them on slings. There were also some panels in the ceiling that I thought could be some kind of defense. Fire extinguishers, in case of fire-breathing monsters, or maybe turrets. Maybe something even more exotic. There were tinkers in the city, after all, and portal stations were pretty high priority.

Eventually Shadow Stalker stomped off. I stepped forward into her place, raising up the head of the velocidrome so the receptionist could see it, partly wrapped in white cloth, now stained red.

"Found this on our trip over," I said. "We're not official Protectorate yet, so we don't have an account. What's the procedure?"

"Oh," the receptionist said, blinking up at me, her eyes widening slightly. "Um, I can record the kill in your names, but put a hold on the bounty for a day or two, until you have accounts? It should be automatic. Is that alright?"

"Perfect," I said, setting the head on the counter. "Thanks."

I left before she could say anything else, hurrying after Shadow Stalker.

"I can't believe this," she muttered when I caught up to her. "We're expected to get to Protectorate HQ on our own."

"Well, capes are supposed to be pretty self-sufficient," I said. "Hunting teams can't exactly call for backup in Pangaea. Maybe this is a test."

"Maybe HQ is just cheap," she countered. We pushed through the glass doors – though I noticed metal shutters that could probably be lowered at a moment's notice – and found ourselves on the sidewalk. I looked up and down the street, but didn't see anything to distinguish the building from any of the ones nearby. Not even a loading bay for trucks, though given that the building was split between our world and the other, that could easily be on the back of the building. Overlapping the cart platforms, maybe.

After we'd been quiet for a moment, Shadow Stalker turned to me. "So, know anything about the city?"

"Built on the Deloware and Schuylkil rivers in sixteen-eighty-two," I said. "Location of the Second Continental- Ow."

"Are you trying to be an asshole?" she asked, pulling back the small knife she'd jabbed into my side.

"Little bit," I said. "Always a little ornery after a fight."

"More like cranky," she said, then shook her head. "Whatever. I get it, I guess. So, subway or taxi?"

"I don't see any taxis," I said. "So unless you have a phone..."

She nodded. "I got one," she said, pulling it out of a pouch. She flipped it open, then held down a button. She stood there for ten seconds, then fifteen, and finally pocketed it again with a muttered curse.

"Burned out?" I asked. "Did you have it on when-?"

"I'm not retarded," she snapped. "I turned it off before going through the portal. But it's not my first trip, so..." She shrugged.

"Say no more," I said. Electronics didn't last very long in Pangaea, even in the best of circumstances. "Guess it's the subway after all."

She glanced at me. At my mask, specifically. "Should we change?" she asked. "Pretty sure they'll have a secured room in the station, and maybe another way out."

I shook my head, then tapped my mask again, setting the chainmail swaying. "Mask stays on," I reminded her.

"So, what, we just go the whole way in costume?" she asked, sounding more curious than anything. Her stance even lost a bit of the annoyance she'd been displaying ever since we'd left the building.

"Why not?" I asked, reaching into a pouch at my waist and pulling out a map of the city. I unfolded it, looked at it for a moment, then flipped it over to display the subway lines. "It's not illegal to walk around in a costume after all, cape or not."

She scoffed, but it was an amused sound. "You know what? Fine," she said, then gestured down the street. "Lead the way."

I did, slightly disappointed that she'd indicated the right direction. I was still tired and hungry, and edgy from the fight. I knew that Shadow Stalker probably wasn't the best person to needle, but she was the only one around. Instead of saying anything, I fished another piece of jerky out of my pouch and munched on it as we walked.

Philadelphia, or at least this part of it, wasn't what I'd expected from the reading I'd done. The city's website was heavy on pictures of the skyline as seen from the rivers, old architecture, the Liberty Bell, museums, universities, and other tourist trap stuff. In contrast, the neighborhood we were walking through could have been from any random city on the east coast. Brick and concrete buildings, usually less than four stories tall, with sidewalks, lawns, and the occasional tree. Same restaurants and convenience stores, same signs in the same sorts of spots. The place was almost a suburb.

Well, it wasn't like they could choose where a portal opened, I supposed.

The subway system, when we found it, was familiar to the point of being same-y. Shadow Stalker let me take the lead, trailing close behind and staring down any civilians that tried to come near. Despite an increasing amount of traffic as we left the portal station behind, nobody approached us, though it looked like a few people wanted to. At least before they got a look at the condition of our gear, anyway.

When we finally emerged above ground again, it was inside the Protectorate building itself. The dimly lit concrete walls of the underground gave way to polished steel and recessed lighting, and we quickly found ourselves in what was obviously a reception room or foyer. Lit by sunlight streaming in through glass walls, the room had to be at least two stories high, if not three, and everything shared the bright, polished-steel appearance that the entry tunnel had, barring some strategically placed potted plants. Even the benches and tables scattered around the place were metal.

Shadow Stalker stepped forward, and I moved to follow her. Once again she approached the reception desk – larger this time, with three people manning it – and once again I left her to it, continuing my survey of the place.

I noticed a little restaurant – almost a canteen – but reluctantly ignored it, grabbing another stick of jerky instead. I also noticed that we weren't alone. Almost a dozen costume-clad people sat around, on their own or in groups. There were also a few people that looked like civilians, but I ignored them. I didn't recognize anyone, but that wasn't a surprise. Most capes didn't enter the public eye until they managed something pretty impressive. So most likely nobodies, like us.

"Oh!" the receptionist said, drawing my attention. Her uniform, I noted, was the same as the one the receptionist at the portal station had worn. Blue, with a shield emblem on the chest. "Your meeting was supposed to be at four thirty. You're late."

"Huh," I said. Disadvantage of not having a watch. Not that most watches would survive in Pangaea, and hand-wound ones were pretty pricey.

"We had a little run in on the way here. That a problem?" Shadow Stalker asked. "You can call the station to confirm."

"Just a moment," the receptionist said, picking up a phone. She talked into it for a moment, obviously trying to be quiet enough to go unheard. I could have focused and heard her anyway, but I didn't. After a moment her eyebrows shot up, and she hung up fairly quickly, then made a second, equally short call. "If you'll take the elevator up to the third floor, you can take the hall to the left and look for meeting room seven. Congratulations, by the way. Few junior Protectorate take down a full-fledged wyvern, even a small one, without a full team."

"Cool," Shadow Stalker said, waving off the praise. She headed to the elevator. I gave the receptionist a quick wave, then followed. Heads tracked us as we went, this time, but I ignored them.

Once we were on the elevator, she turned to me. "You know what's supposed to happen now?" she asked.

"Nope," I said. "Supposed to meet our mentor, I guess, and the rest of the team. The e-mail said that everything should be set, but it was pretty short on details."

"Yeah, mine was the same," she groused, crossing her arms and staring at the floor. She tapped her foot a few times, then deliberately straightened up. "Well, whatever. Probably some suit or something."

I nodded agreement. "Been that way so far, anyway," I said.

We found the room easily. The walls facing the hallway were frosted glass, making it impossible to see more than minor details on the other side. Shadow Stalker pushed the door open, then froze. I straightened up, peering in over her head, and my eyes widened.

"Oh snap," I said. Standing against one wall of the room, in front of a large whiteboard, was a man in armor much heavier than my own plate-and-chain. White and gold, themed like a traditional knight, and with an enormous sword set beside him on an obviously custom made stand. I didn't need to see the telltale barrel just above the sword's single edge to know who he was. Nobody in the country could mistake him. Still, it took me a moment to work through the chain of logic his presence indicated.

Chevalier, one of the first dragonslayers, was going to be our mentor.

"Fuck this! This is bullshit!" Shadow Stalker burst out, taking a step back. She bumped into me, stumbled, and half-spun on me before whirling back to the room.

"Is there a problem, Shadow Stalker?" Chevalier asked. His voice fit his appearance to a tee. Deep and resonant, but not enough to be aggressive or forbidding.

"Yes there's a fucking problem!" Shadow Stalker shouted, sticking out an accusing finger. "Why the hell is she here?!"

I followed her finger. She was pointing toward a table to the back of the room. A girl was there, sitting slumped with one hand supporting her head, the other frozen in the middle of doodling on the table. Glowing lines traced the path her finger had been taking, slowly fading away. Obviously a cape, and by extension one of our teammates, her costume was a blue robe with a hood deep enough to hide most of her face, trimmed with runic symbols made of silver thread. Long blonde hair spilled out of the hood to each side of her face, trailing down the front of the robe.

"Why am I here?" the girl asked, her voice giving her away as at least a few years younger than me or Shadow Stalker. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. She turned to Chevalier. "Why is this psycho here? You can't actually be thinking of putting us on the same team?"

"Nobody's thinking about it," Chevalier said, his voice slightly lower than before. "It's done. You'll both have to live with it, or give up the chance to be part of the Protectorate."

"She's a villain," Shadow Stalker grit out. "A fucking Nazi. You have to know what they were like, back in Brockton Bay."

"Oh snap," I said again, looking at Shadow Stalker. "You're from Brockton Bay?"

She didn't get a chance to answer. The blue-robed girl stood up, pushing her chair back with a screech and balling up her fists. "I might have been a Nazi," she snarled, a sound I couldn't take seriously coming from someone so young. "But at least I'm not a murderer."

"Wait, what?" The voice came from the fifth person in the room. A guy, probably in his late teens. He didn't wear a costume as much as military gear, complete with a bandolier of ammunition and a fancy set of goggles. "I didn't sign up to be on a team with either murderers or Nazis."

Chevalier clapped his hands sharply, the resulting sound louder than I would have thought possible. Everyone in the room flinched, and I reached a finger up under my helmet, rubbing at my ear.

"That's enough," he said. "You're all either ex-villains or vigilantes, and all of you have been vetted as sufficiently low risk to be worth making this offer to. You've all got your reasons for accepting, or you wouldn't be here. Now, Shadow Stalker, Hunter, sit down and we'll begin the briefing."

Shadow Stalker hesitated for a moment, tossing me a look over her shoulder. Then she shrugged and half-walked, half-stormed into the room, pulling out a chair with excessive force and falling into it. I took a seat beside her, but she ignored me, crossing her arms and planting her feet on the table, loudly.

"Good," Chevalier said. "Rune, Shadow Stalker, you clearly know each other, and I won't ask for introductions. Hunter and Rifle make up the rest of the team. You can get to know each other, and work out any issues, later."

"Suits me," I said. The other guy – Rifle – just muttered something and slouched down in his seat.

"Alright then," Chevalier said, glancing between us. "You've all had some experience in Pangaea, some more recent than others, but I'll give you the standard introduction anyway." He waited for a response, but nobody said anything. The tension in the room wouldn't allow it. "December thirteenth, nineteen-ninety-two. Iran. The first incursion, the flying-class wyvern eventually codenamed monoblos. Five local capes and several hundred civilians dead, as well as several tens of millions of dollars in damage. The portal was located a few days later, after two more incursions, with thankfully far fewer casualties. Another six capes died before it was finally closed."

I nodded along with everyone else. I hadn't been born at the time, but everyone knew about it.

"The next portal opened on July sixth, nineteen-ninety-three. Sau Paulo, Brazil. The piscine-class wyvern codenamed Plesioth emerged in the middle of the city, killing thousands. The portal was closed soon after, without casualties, preventing further monsters from emerging. Portals continued to open after that at an accelerating rate. As of now there have been one hundred and twelve confirmed portals, with some anomalous gaps in their appearance leading some to believe the number could be as high as one hundred fifty. Most appear in highly-populated areas. It wasn't until the attack on Lyon in October of two-thousand-three that it was discovered that some of the environments on the other side connect to multiple locations on our Earth, making travel and trade-"

"Can I ask a question?" I broke in. Chevalier stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "So, I've always wanted to know. Do the monsters-"

"Wyverns, is the technical term," Rifle said from behind me.

"Wyverns," I said. "Do they come from another Earth, like ours or Earth Aleph?"

"Nobody knows," Chevalier admitted. "Travel in Pangaea is dangerous at the best of times, and it's been less than seven years since the first actual exploration, rather than a quick attempt to close the portal. Combined with the fact that electricity functions differently there, it's been a very slow process. But up to now no actual direct connection has been discovered between environments, and their connection to our world clearly isn't linear. On that side, Boston is closer than New York, and even that's only fifteen miles away. Pangaea could be another Earth, or it could be a series of pocket dimensions. Beyond that, nobody knows how the portals open, or why. Apart from some primitive non-human cultures, there hasn't been any sign of civilization there, either."

"Wait, there's intelligent creatures over there?" Rifle asked. "I've never heard that before."

Chevalier nodded. "Several species, actually," he said. "Broadly categorized as 'Lynians', none exist at a level higher than the stone age, and many are hostile. Now, if I can continue?"

I gestured for him to go ahead, which he graciously ignored.

"Alright. With the discovery of transport options, as well as a variety of useful resources that don't exist on our Earth, many governments have begun to exploit the environments on the other side of the portals. There have been complications, though. In addition to electricity-based technology not functioning there, many local creatures, wyverns and otherwise, have an aversion to anything that comes from our world. That includes both people and materials. Sometimes that aversion leads to them avoiding us, sometimes it leads them to attack us. Either way, any industry there is impossible to automate, and has to be conducted with local resources to avoid drawing hostile attention. That's where we come in. Capes in general, and you four specifically."

"Us?" Rifle asked.

"You," Chevalier replied. "You're all aware of the truce, following the opening of the third New York portal? I don't mean to be insulting, but all of you would have been very young at the time." Rifle nodded impatiently, Rune slightly less so, and I gave a quick 'sure'. Even Shadow Stalker managed a single, angry jerk of her head. "Well, a little history anyway. Most capes define themselves as either a hero or villain, or sometimes a vigilante." He inclined his head to Shadow Stalker, which she ignored. "That dichotomy is a holdover from a time prior to the truce, when most heroes and villains spent their time in conflict with each other, or the law. However, given the military's inability to fight wyverns in their own environment, and the necessity of doing so in order to close the portals, the government was willing to give amnesty for almost any crime if the cape in question was willing to lend their aid and fight. Over time that grew into a more formal truce, though it remains largely unwritten and somewhat flexible, depending on circumstances."

"I'm well-fucking-aware," Shadow Stalker said, shooting Rune an angry look.

"Fuck you," Rune said, flipping her off. "We did more good than you ever did."

"So!" Rifle burst in, leaning forward and talking over them. "Where do I come in, then? We- I was never that kind of villain in the first place."

Shadow Stalker jerked her head away from Rune, but didn't protest the interruption.

"Actually, If your records are accurate, your old team was fairly close to the original style of villain," Chevalier told him.

"We were just thieves," Rifle protested. "We never fought heroes, and we did fight against wyverns, when they broke out into a city." He paused. "If we were there."

"There's only a record of that happening once," Chevalier said. "Compared to over seventy robberies of various types."

Rifle stared at him for a moment, then slumped back into his seat. "I didn't realize it was that many," he muttered, more surprised than sullen.

"It's why the offer included the break up of your team, actually," Chevalier said. "The Protectorate wasn't willing to risk a backslide."

"I wasn't told that," Rifle said.

"It's true," Chevalier said. "I'm trying to be open with you here, and I hope to be able to do the same in the future. I'll answer any questions you have as well and as thoroughly as I'm able." He glanced around the room. "That's true for all of you, by the way. This is a project I believe in, and I hope you can all benefit from it. Which leads us back to my point about where you come in. As more portals open, and more are _left_ open, the demands on parahumans, hero and villain alike, has gone up. More leeway is being granted, and more borderline cases are being made offers. Younger capes, too. Or all of the above, in your case."

"I'm feeling a 'but' in there somewhere," I said.

He sighed. "Not quite. But you're not entirely wrong, either. Are you aware of why it's customary to organize Protectorate capes into groups of four?"

"Not really," I said. "Never occurred to me."

"Publicly it's because smaller groups than four are highly vulnerable to even medium sized wyverns, and that's true, but it's not the only reason. It's not widely talked about, but only four in five teams last out their first year. Most that don't simply disappear. That statistic seem to hold true regardless of team size, and since most missions in Pangaea can be easily handled by a well-balanced team of four-"

"They don't want to lose bigger teams," Rune said. Her voice was bitter. "It's not, what, economical?"

"More or less," Chevalier said.

"That's pretty fucked up," she said.

"You're not wrong," Chevalier said. "But neither are they. We lose less capes this way, and we can get more accomplished. I'm part of a four person team myself, as you might know, and I stand by the reasoning. Both sides of it. It's part of why I'm promoting this initiative, and why I'm spending the time to mentor you. I want to give you the best chance possible, and make sure you're not the one team in five that doesn't make it back home. Can you accept that?"

"I was never bothered by the risks," I said. "I'm fine with it."

"Not like I'll get a better offer," Shadow Stalker muttered.

"I'm in," Rifle said. "Better than jail, or having the PRTCJ after me."

"Yeah, what he said," Rune added, her voice still bitter. Almost angry.

Chevalier didn't look happy. "I want to say that your reasoning is wrong, but I won't. We need all the help we can get, and so do you. So we'll help each other, and maybe in a few years' time we can have this discussion again in a different context. For now, this is enough." He picked a little remote control off the wall and tapped at it. A panel folded out of the ceiling, and a little projector hummed to life, splashing an image onto the whiteboard beside him. A map of the building, I realized. "The map will show you the way to the barracks. Free of charge as long as you're with the Protectorate. Rooms that are occupied will have a name on the door, and empty ones are first-come, first-serve. We'll meet again tomorrow at ten in the morning to discuss your first job. If you have any questions before then, each room has a land line, and you can contact the front desk at any hour."

"Do we have to stay here?" Rune asked, glancing at Shadow Stalker. "I've already got a hotel room."

"That's fine," Chevalier said. "We can talk about a housing stipend later, if necessary."

Shadow Stalker stood up without a word and stomped away, yanking the door open on her way out. I shrugged, then got up to join her.

"Yeah, run bitch," Rune muttered, too quiet for anyone but me to hear.

"Fuck this," Shadow Stalker spat as I caught up to her. She glanced at me, then whipped her head away. "You alright with this? Working with a Nazi?"

"I'm gonna be honest," I told her. "I really don't care." She turned on me, fists balled, and I held up my hands. "I don't care that you're a murderer either," I added.

"That's fucked up," she muttered, but she turned around and kept walking. Behind us, Rifle emerged from the meeting room, but he didn't move to catch up. He kept his distance, matching our pace. Maybe giving us space, or maybe he just didn't want anything to do with us.

"We're all fucked up, it sounds like," I said. "Nature of the beast. You gonna leave?"

"No," she said. "I want to, but-" She shook her head. "It's bullshit."

"Good," I said, clapping a hand to her shoulder. "I had a good time, fighting the velocidrome with you. It was fun. It'd be a shame not to do it again."

She swatted my hand away. "You really are fucked up," she replied. "But whatever. I guess I am too, and..." She stopped for a moment, looked me up and down. "Yeah, I guess I'm looking forward to fighting beside you again, too."

I gave her a smile that she couldn't see. "Good," I said.


	3. A Killing from Mushrooms

**Chapter Three: A Killing from Mushrooms**

"This is such bullshit. We-"

Whatever else Shadow Stalker planned to say was interrupted by a huge yawn. It was almost funny. Her head tilted back, letting her hood slip a bit lower on her face, but her mask's expression never changed. It remained almost blank, a bit stern.

"What's bullshit?" I asked her once she'd finished.

"You serious? This!" She spread her arms, indicating the terrain all around us.

I looked around, taking in the rolling hills and scattered trees. The sun was just rising, leaving the spaces beneath the branches dark, but casting a rich light on the waving fields of grass. It smelled like morning dew, fresh, with a slight hint of monster dung.

Of course, even if it was dawn here, it was almost noon back in Philadelphia. Shadow Stalker, it seemed, wasn't a morning person.

"Nice place," I said. A few hundred feet away, a herd of aptonoth lumbered out of the forest, making their way to a river or lake I could barely make out in the distance. Probably the source of the less pleasant smells. "Apart from the monsters."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she growled, her hand dipping toward her belt.

I debated playing dumb a bit longer, weighing the disadvantage of being punched or stabbed versus the amusement of getting her angry.

"We're being well-paid, at least," I said, opting for safety.

"Well-paid?" she asked. "Like that makes it alright?"

"Well, you did say you were in it for yourself," I pointed out. "I'd think you'd be happy to get a paycheck for picking mushrooms, rather than having to fight for it."

She shook her head, huffing out an annoyed breath. "It's the principle of the thing," she insisted. "We're Protectorate-"

"Junior Protectorate," I pointed out.

"Whatever," she said, brushing away my correction. "We're supposed to be hunting monsters and taking down threats. But our first mission, given to us by fucking Chevalier himself, is to collect botanical samples."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure the mushrooms we're after sell for a lot," I said, stepping around a patch of denser grass. Shadow Stalker simply phased through it, not even breaking stride. "They're apparently pretty serious delicacies."

She dropped her arms to her sides and rolled her head. The universal gesture that mask-wearing capes used when they couldn't roll their eyes. "Just great. We're collecting rich-bitch chow. I sure feel like hero now." She looked toward me. "How do you even know that, by the way?"

"No special reason," I said. "I wandered around a bit, after I got my power. You hear things, some places."

"Very nice," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Very mysterious. You bullshitting me again?"

"Yeah," I said.

"They're not just food," Rifle said, and I turned my head in his direction. We were advancing in a line, spread apart, if not quite the way we'd been instructed. Instead of being carefully spaced out so that only one of us could be threatened at a time, leaving the others free to provide support, Shadow Stalker was walking right beside me, while Rifle was pretty far on the other side, Rune even farther beyond him, as well as trailing behind us.

"Hey!" I called out, raising my hands to mouth. "Keep up!"

"Fuck you!" Rune replied, her voice faint with distance, and maybe a little breathless.

I shrugged, then turned my attention back to Rifle. He was dressed a bit differently here than he had been back in the Protectorate HQ. His fancy goggles were gone, replaced with a more normal pair that didn't sport any electronics, and he held a long gun across his shoulders, both hands resting on it, casual and familiar. He was wearing more practical armor, too, though the bandolier was still there, as well as his various pouches and tactical... things. It was all in browns and greens, though, rather than black.

"They're not just food," he repeated a bit louder, when he saw he had my attention. "They've got some interesting anti-microbial agents with high bio-availability. Small doses can eliminate a lot of different kinds of parasites and bacteria, absorb easily into the bloodstream, and have minimal side-effects. Companies are hoping to replicate the results and find some useful alternatives to current antibiotics. If it pans out, there's billions of dollars to be made."

"Huh, I was not aware," I said. "So why do people eat them, then?"

"Same reason," he said. "Their effects are the same when ingested, though with lower efficacy. It even works when they're cooked. So some rich people like to add them to their meals. Gourmet health food, I guess. It's illegal, though. If you're not using them for research purposes you can only get them off the black market."

"Huh," I repeated. "I wonder how people find this stuff out?"

"I always do my research," he said. "Knowing your target and having a good plan is essential when you're trying to pull off a heist. Same thing for a hunt, I figure. Preparation equals victory."

"Oh, I can tell he's gonna be a barrel of fun," Shadow Stalker whispered, discreetly elbowing me in the side.

"He ain't wrong," I whispered back, then raised my voice again. "I mean more like how people found out about the anti-microbial stuff in the first place. Did someone eat one when they had a cold, or something? Who just chomps down on strange mushrooms?"

Rifle pointedly looked at me, his eyes shifting down to my hand.

"Jerky," I said. "It's jerky. Not mushrooms. Meat's meat."

"You say that now, but nobody's done long-term studies on the consequences of eating food sourced from Pangaea," he said. "And to answer your question, just about everything that can be hauled out of here and studied, has been. From the grass, to the air, to the dirt, water, flowers, nuts and berries, ore, crystals, and every part of the monsters. Everything."

"Sounds like if there was a problem, they'd have noticed years ago," I said.

"They're still researching the mushrooms," he countered.

I shrugged. "Strong point," I said, taking another bite and chewing it slowly.

"Hey!" Rune called out. Rifle turned to her. "We getting close yet?!"

"Shout a little louder!" Shadow Stalker called to her. "I don't think all the monsters heard you the last time!"

"Mind your own business, N-!" Rune shouted, then stopped. I could see her clench her fists for a moment, then shake her head.

Shadow Stalker crossed her arms. I couldn't see her face, but I would have bet she was smirking. Or scowling.

Rifle ignored the interplay, stepping up onto a rock that jutted out of the plains, looking around. He pulled a map out of a pouch at his waist, unfolded it, and traced a path on it with his finger.

"Getting there," he said, loud enough so that we'd all hear him. He put the map away, then gestured to a nearby forest visually identical to all the others we'd passed, though there were some higher hills around it. "The mushrooms are reportedly common in the location designed as Area Eight. If we don't find any there, we'll have to move either north or west, to Area Ten or Area Seven."

"God, who named those?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Naming conventions here were always tricky," Rifle said, hopping off the rock and starting to walk again. We all moved with him, even Rune, though she looked reluctant. "At first everything was named by the first person to encounter it, be it an area, a plant, or a monster. But that got us things like the conga-la-la, the excite-shroom, and a few other embarrassments. Now there's a standard terminology for everything. It's meant to stop disputes, though it doesn't always work, in a lot of different ways."

Shadow Stalker snorted. "Congalala. Fantastic. Wonder who named that?"

"Isn't that the big pink monkey?" I asked.

Neither of us had raised our voice, but Rifle answered anyway. Enhanced senses, maybe, like mine?

"It is," he said. "The alpha-variant of the common conga. Named by one of our mentor's teammates, actually, almost nine years back, when they were still closing portals as a matter of course."

"Oh god, I should have guessed," Shadow Stalker said with a sigh.

"Who's this?" I asked, glancing between them.

"Wait, you don't even know the people on Chevalier's team?" Shadow Stalker asked. "How?"

"Never cared, I guess," I said. "Chevalier's awesome, of course, don't get me wrong. He's a dragonslayer. A real one."

"Of course that's all you'd care about," she said, rolling her head. "Boys."

I ignored her scorn, taking another bite of my jerky. "You just don't understand," I told her, and she rolled her head again.

"Not that I agree with the last part, but I do share her sentiment," Rifle said. "It's more than a bit irresponsible not to know the capes you might be interacting with."

"Yeah, probably," I said. "I prefer to read up on monsters, though. Not like they deploy multiple teams for anything less than an elder dragon, anyway. Who cares who's who if we're not gonna fight beside them?"

"We might," he said. "If a monster breaks through the defenses around a portal, they call in multiple teams."

"Chevalier rolls with Miss Militia, Armsmaster, and Mouse Protector," Shadow Stalker said. "They're all dragonslayers, if that means anything, though only Chevalier's delivered a killing blow. But they all fought. They were there for the first one, even. One of the only teams where all four members survived."

"Not even the Founders did that," Rifle added. "They lost Hero."

"Huh. Alright, you guys got me there," I said. "That's pretty hardcore."

Rifle nodded, apparently satisfied that he'd made his point. Conversation lapsed after that, and we approached the forest in silence.

I'd seen the forests here before, on the trip from New York, and I hadn't thought much of them at the time. Seeing it up close, though, I had to change my opinion. The trees were huge, their roots and branches tangled with each other. They grew in a valley between the hills, somewhere I assumed the soil was deeper than normal, or where they had more access to water.

Whatever the reason, the place deserved to be called more than just a 'forest'. It was a place that had been growing for who knew how long, without the touch of humans to change or tame it.

"The primordial forest," I said.

"This place has already been designed as the 'Forest and Hills' portal zone," Rifle said.

I clicked my tongue. "That's boring."

"There is a place called the 'Great Forest'," he told me. "By all accounts it deserves the name a lot more than this. It's dangerous, though. They don't let inexperienced teams go there."

"This place does look pretty impressive," Rune said, finally catching up with us. We had, I noticed, all come to a stop close together. Nobody had said anything, but we'd done it all the same.

"I've seen better," Shadow Stalker said. "This place isn't much."

"I'm with Rune," I said. "I mean, I did just try to name it."

"You're both newbies," she said, crossing her arms. "What the hell do you know?"

"Enough with the bickering," Rifle said. "The grasslands here are pretty safe, but the forest is another matter. There's been lots of dangerous monsters spotted here, including an elder dragon."

"Oh ho," I said. "Interesting."

"It was killed four years ago," he informed me. "There's regular culls in the area, due to the value of the local plant life. It should be safe, especially since two certain individuals just took out an alpha monster." He gave me and Shadow Stalker a look. "But-"

"How'd you find out about that?" I asked. "Is there a database of who's killed what?"

"There is," he said, annoyed.

"Some people bet on it, actually," Rune told me, giving me a speculative look. She, at least, hadn't known about the velocidrome.

"They do," Rifle said, raising his voice. He didn't like to be interrupted. I made a note of that. "Anyway, the point is that we aren't expected to encounter anything serious, but that doesn't mean we _won't_. So everyone stay close. We need to keep each other in sight, and respond quickly if anything happens."

"Yeah, fuck that," Shadow Stalker said, stepping forward. "You guys can stay and jerk each other off if you want, but I want this done quick." She stopped for a moment and turned back to us. "Don't worry about me getting lost. I won't. And you three couldn't hide from me if you wanted to. Later."

With that, she activated her power. The day before, under a bright sky in a green field, she'd been hard to see, hazy. Under the dark canopy of the forest, she disappeared instantly.

Rifle sighed. "Hunter, Rune, either of you want to be an asshole and run off too?"

"A bit," I said. "But I'll stick with you."

"Good enough," he said, and started forward. I followed, and Rune was just a step behind.

I blinked as we passed into the darker space under the canopy, my vision adjusting to compensate, the darkness giving way to something more tolerable. Despite the size of the trees, and the darkness they cast, there was a lot of other plant life. Some familiar bushes, some small-leafed plants I didn't recognize, vines and creepers, and little patches of lichen, all growing in the space between the huge trees' roots. Some patches of grass, too, where more light made it through. There was moss as well, sometimes growing right on the trees themselves. Even a few mushrooms. Nothing like what we were looking for, though.

Still, despite the variety of it all, it was a lot easier to move through than the grasslands we'd just left.

"You've got enhanced sight?" Rifle asked after a few minutes.

"Who, me?" I asked, not looking at him, continuing my scan of the area. "Yeah. Hearing and smell too, plus balance, spacial sense, and some other stuff. Gets a bit complicated. I prefer to just say I've got enhanced senses and leave it at that."

"Good to know," he said, in a tone of voice I recognized. He was filing the information away for the future.

Although, something occurred to me.

"How'd you know?" I asked, pausing in the middle of climbing over an especially large root and shooting him a quick look.

"You're moving too fast to have normal perception," he said. "I've got enhanced sight too, so that's where my mind went. Mine doesn't fully kick in unless I'm using it for long distances, but I get some improvements in most situations."

"Right," I said. "Makes sense."

"Okay, now that-" Rune started, then stopped to suck in a breath. "-you guys are done the dick-measuring contest, would you mind slowing down?"

I looked her over. Not much was visible beneath the peaked hood of her robe, but she was breathing hard, scrambling over the roots that I'd hopped over without a thought. I stood there and let her catch up. She did, sinking to the ground and moving a hand beneath her hood, wiping at her face. Then she reached into the front of her robe, coming out with a bottle and taking a long drink.

"I should just use my power for this," she muttered.

"You know you can't," Rifle said. "Monsters are attracted to disturbances."

"Lick me, asshole," she said, stowing her water bottle, then giving him the finger. "I know it. Just bitching."

"If you two are having trouble, I can go ahead," I said. Rifle was hiding it well, taking quick, shallow breaths through his nose that made almost no noise, but I could tell he wasn't doing much better than Rune. "Maybe circle around. Expand our search area."

"Works for me," Rune said. "We can set up here, maybe. Like a central base or something."

"Enhanced agility?" Rifle asked me. "Stamina, maybe?"

"Yeah and yup," I said. "Among other things. It gets complicated."

He sighed, then shook his head. "No, we should stick together," he said, ignoring his own question and my answer to it. "Move as a group. Whatever their limits, six eyes are better than two."

"Figured you'd say that," Rune muttered.

"Same," I said. "I don't disagree, though."

"Same," Rune admitted, reluctantly forcing herself back to her feet. "Fuck it. Let's go."

The deeper we went into the forest, the bigger the trees got, and the less light there was. Regular plants became less common, replaced with others that I didn't recognize, including a wide variety of mushrooms. Some were the common type, recognizable from Earth Bet. Others were unfamiliar, though still clearly mushrooms. A stalk and a cap. The shapes varied, as did the size, the color, and a million other details, and inspecting them soon became routine.

"Over there," Rifle said eventually, and I perked up for a moment. "A monster. Smaller. A boar, I think."

I looked in the direction he was indicating, squinting against the distance and lack of light. I saw it quickly enough. It did look like a boar, if one that was abnormally bulky, with huge tusks. It was large, five feet at the shoulders and probably four or five hundred pounds. Big in our world, but small for here. I recognized it from my reading. A bullfango.

I'd never considered the name before, but now I had to wonder. Had Mouse Protector named this one too?

"It hasn't seen us," Rifle said. "We'll go around."

"Works for me," I said. For all their size, the bounty would be small, and everything I'd read said their fighting ability was basic. Head down, charge, then turn around and repeat until their opponent was dead or they were. Stubborn, but boring.

After a moment, Rifle picked a new direction and started off, head tracking, scanning for mushrooms and possible threats.

"So," Rune said, coming up beside me as we progressed. "You've got enhanced senses, an enhanced body-" I waggled my eyebrows up and down at her, but she wasn't looking at me - "and I guess some other stuff. How's that work?"

"You know what cluster trigger is?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said, sounding a bit surprised. "Most people don't like to talk about their trigger events, though. No offense."

"None taken," I said, though I wasn't sure where the offense was supposed to be. "And I'm not gonna talk about it. Just explaining."

"Not much of an explanation," she said.

I vaulted up onto a tree root in our path, then offered her my hand. She took it, and I hauled her up, then lowered her to the other side. We kept going.

"So, aren't you curious about my power?" she asked after a minute.

"You're a shaker," I said, then pointed to Rifle. "He's a blaster. You two are gonna be standing at the back of the fight, taking shots, while me and Shadow Stalker hold the monster's attention."

"I can do more than just that," she protested. "I can control things. Big stuff, heavy rocks or tree trunks. I can't move them fast, but I can use them to move myself around, or other people, and put them in the way and stuff. Like shields."

"Huh," I said. That would explain why she'd wanted to use her power rather than trekking along the ground with the rest of us. "Useful."

"It is," she said, nodding definitively.

"For the record, I enhance projectiles," Rifle said. "Longer range, higher speed, better accuracy, although that last is mostly on my boosted vision."

"How big can you go?" Rune asked him.

"That's what she said," I faux-whispered.

"Not very," Rifle replied, ignoring me. Disappointing. "Anything bigger than a fifty cal or ten-gauge is too big. I mostly work with shotguns. My power gets around the range and accuracy limitations that slugs usually have in an unrifled barrel, and I make a lot of custom loads for specific circumstances."

I took a quick look at his gun, but I didn't know enough to tell anything about it one way or another.

"Shame," Rune said, raising a hand to doodle a quick geometric shape on a fallen log as we passed it. Like I'd seen before, light traced the path her finger had taken, quickly sinking into the wood. After a moment the log floated up and moved alongside her. She traced more runes on it, and it sped up, keeping pace. "If I don't have space to make my marks, my power doesn't work. Bullets are too small."

"A shame," Rifle agreed. "It would have been a nice synergy."

"Oh hey," I broke in, pointing to a small hollow at the base of a tree we'd just passed. "That what we're after?"

"Let me see," Rifle said, quickly stepping over and crouching down. His hands hovered around the little white mushroom I'd just indicated. It had the right shape, and the black spots the mission document had described, but apparently his examination was more in-depth.

"This is it," he said after ten or fifteen seconds, reaching down and carefully plucking the cap. "Currently unnamed fungi of the family Agaricaceae. Good. We're one tenth there."

"Fucking kill me," Rune groaned, sagging in place.

So of course that was when the monster stepped around the tree.

It froze, facing us. Twice as tall as the velocidrome, mottled purple, scaled and armor-plated except for a ruff of feathery white hair under its jaw. It had tiny, beady eyes and a comically large beak that was just starting to drop open in surprise. It would have looked goofy if it was any farther than ten feet from us, or if it's head was less than ten feet off the ground.

 _God, that beak is bigger than I am._

We all started moving at the same time. Rune gestured, and the log flew forward, ramming into the thing's head, knocking it to the side just as it took a step toward us, sending it stumbling. Rifle swiftly pocketed the mushroom and swung his gun off his shoulder in the same motion, picking canisters off his bandolier and loading them with quick, sure motions. I leapt forward and up, kicking off the tree for extra height, drawing my new sword and slashing at the base of the monster's throat, between the armor plates.

My cut was shallow, barely nicking its scales, but the reaction was dramatic. It hopped backwards, forelimbs unfolding into batlike wings – if bats were twenty feet long and armored like a tank – and then it _screamed_.

It was the only word I could think of to describe the sound, and it wasn't a close fit. It was short, piercing, and intense enough that I staggered, covering my ears and abandoning a follow-up strike. It resonated, too, almost pulsed, and I could see the monster's tongue vibrating against the roof of its mouth.

Just the sound alone was almost an attack.

Light flashed between me and the monster, bright enough to blind, accompanied by a whip of sound nearly as loud as the monster's scream. It reared up, stepping backward and blinking.

"Run!" Rifle shouted, pumping his gun and ejecting a spent casing, his voice barely making it past the ringing in my ears. He suited actions to words and spun on his heel, taking off at a sprint. Rune joined him, slower, and I did a moment later, still shaking my head, trying to clear it.

I caught up instantly, grabbing Rune's arm and pulling her along. She winced and stumbled, nearly lost her footing, but she was light enough that I could haul her along without breaking stride, and I did. If my sword hadn't been in my other hand I would have carried her outright. She skipped along, feet only making contact with the ground half the time, and I could see the muscles in her jaw jump as she clenched her teeth.

Behind us, the monster was already recovered. I barely had time to notice the whiff of smell – almost like burning tar – and jump aside before the fireball tore through the space I'd just occupied. It tumbled ahead of us and hit a tree, bursting in a dull flash and quickly guttering

"Fuck, fuck, mother-fuck," Rune grit out, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other darting out to trace patterns on everything within reach. It took me a moment to realize I'd dragged her with me when I'd dodged. Sprained her arm at the least, maybe worse.

Debris floated upward, drifting and spinning. Rocks, branches, and even clumps of dirt. It all moved quicker than the log had, either because they were smaller or because Rune was putting more effort into it. They moved together to bombard the monster.

I didn't wait around to see how effective it was. I let go of her arm and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up onto my shoulder and speeding up. She let out of hiss of pain, but didn't protest as I took off after Rifle, and I made sure that she could see behind us, coordinate her assault.

Rifle stopped and spun, letting off another burst of fire, paired shots that exploded with light and sound, one after the other. Then I caught up and he spun again to continue running.

"Yian garuga," he grit out between rapid breaths. "Largest known bird-class wyvern. Spits flaming chemicals, loud roar for its size."

"Noticed that," I said, pelting over roots and around tree trunks. I'd been worried I'd have to slow down to keep pace, but Rifle could move. Training, probably, given the way he vaulted over things, using a free hand to redirect himself or gain more speed. Parkour, or something like it.

"Vulnerable to bright lights and loud noises, though just yelling at it won't work," he continued. "Hard shell, resistant to most damage. Vulnerable behind the beak, near the eyes and ears. Neck and tail can also be damaged."

"Shit," I said. If the neck was considered vulnerable, then it was damn tough.

"We lose it if we can," he said. "Fighting's a last resort."

"Left!" Rune shouted, and I dived again, hitting the ground with my shoulder and rolling, careful not to crush her or let her go. Fire splashed against the ground where we'd just been. A smokey, sharp-smelling burst. I continued the roll, springing upright as Rune panted, hand clenched against her injured shoulder.

"Sorry," I said.

"Better than being cooked," she grit out. "Don't drop me."

"Wouldn't think of it," I said.

Foliage crashed and broke as the yian garuga stomped after us, the footsteps clumsy but powerful. It gained quickly for a moment, then I heard the sound of wood breaking, followed by an angry croak and a tumbling fall.

"Yeah, eat that, bitch," Rune spat, her voice wavering.

"Keep it up," Rifle said. "Keep it off us. We need to find cover, something too small for it to follow us through."

"Idea," I said. I sheathed my sword, then ducked down and hoisted a hollow log up onto my free shoulder. I stumbled at the weight for a moment, my arm straining, but Rune realized what I was doing quickly enough. Her good arm darted out over my head, tracing her runes on the log, and it floated up. I let it go, eyes darting around the path ahead of us, searching for more ammunition.

We kept running, the monster repeatedly closing the distance before Rune hit it with something, diverting it. It spit fire, flapped its wings in short, hopping flights, but it couldn't catch up. On the other hand, we couldn't escape. Any time we rounded a tree or let it get out of sight, Rune had to halt her attack, and it closed in again.

"Where the fuck is she," Rune hissed. No question who she meant. I'd been wondering it too. Her power would be a hell of help right now.

"There!" Rifle shouted, pointing toward two trees, grown huge and twined together. At the base of them, the roots had been pushed up out of the earth in a tangled mess. There was enough space between them for us, but not for the monster. Even better, I could see some light coming through, indicating a path we could follow.

I put on a burst of speed, pulling ahead of Rifle as he spun, hands flashing, loading and firing shells one after another so fast the sound of the shots blurred together into one long, rippling salvo.

"Brace!" I shouted as I sprinted toward the trees, and Rune's body tightened up, her hand clenched hard onto mine.

I went into a diving slide, my butt hitting the forest floor and skidding forward. I kicked out, snapping a smaller root, and grabbed another with my feet hand, pulling myself forward into the hole without losing momentum. Dirt fountained out ahead of me, roots slapped me in the face, and then we were through. I surged to me feet and spun around in time to see Rifle scrambling through after us, and I reached down, hauling him the rest of the way just ahead of another fireball.

He gasped, then sprung upward, hands beating at his pants, but it was mostly just smoke.

"Come on," he said, then stopped. "Rune?"

"Hurts," she said, the sound coming from between clenched teeth.

"Damn it," he cursed, then flinched as the trees shook. The monster screamed again, a sound of frustration, right on the other side of the trees. I heard it rake at them, and debris hit the ground.

"Can it get through?" I asked.

"Why would I know that?" Rifle snapped, his voice tight.

I shrugged. "You've known everything else so far."

"Well not this," he said. "Damn it. Alright, come on."

He trotted off, and I followed. Then, from behind and above, the sound of shattering wood.

I spun just in time to see the monster, scratching and shredding its way through the twinned trees, up high enough where they weren't joined as tightly, and then it was on us.

I drew my sword and hopped to the side, swinging, but I didn't make contact. The monster hit the ground beside me. Rifle wasn't as quick, too tired or too surprised, and the impact sent him flying. For a moment I thought he'd been hit directly, but it was just that the thing was so big, so heavy, that the wind of its landing was enough to take him off his feet.

"Hey! Assbeak!" I shouted, taking a step forward and stabbing up, under its wing, before dancing backward. Rune made a choked sound on my shoulder.

As I'd wanted, it turned to me, ignoring Rifle as he scrambled to his feet. It didn't scream again, or spit a fireball, as I'd been predicting – hoping – it would. Instead it stepped forward, beak stabbing down at me. I side-stepped it, and it drew back before pecking downward again, and again, and again. I barely kept ahead of it, backpedaling until my ankle caught on something, and I nearly fell.

The beak came down as I was still catching my balance, and there was nothing I could do. My shield was on the arm holding Rune. I twisted, protecting her, and took the blow full on. The beak hit me where my chest met my shoulder, and if I'd thought the velocidrome hit hard, this was in an entirely different league. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground hard enough to bounce. Rune screamed, either in fear or in pain. I didn't drop her, though my sword clattered to the forest floor.

"Fuck-" I croaked as the beak rose up for another strike. "-you. I'm not going down like this!"

My voice gained strength as I went, and I sprang to my feet. For a moment I had no idea what I was going to do – punch it, maybe – and then my sword floated into view, drifting around my shoulder with one of Rune's runes still fading away on the blade. I grabbed it as the beak came down, spinning to avoid the strike, then lashing out. The beak brushed against my side, the incidental contact almost enough to buckle my knees, but I raked my blade against the yian garuga's head, behind its beak, where Rifle had said it was vulnerable.

It reared up, booming out that warbling scream again, blood and fluid spilling out from where its eye had been, and something came loose. A flap of scaled skin fluttered to the ground, even as its twin unfolded on the other side of its head.

An ear. I'd cut off its ear.

"Yeah, bitch! Eat it!" I shouted, brandishing my sword, the edge running with blood and other goop.

"Hunter! Run!" Rifle shouted, his gun booming. Not stunning rounds this time. One slug punched a hole through the monster's wing membrane, and another sent up a spray of blood from its back. It shrieked, burning spit dripping from its mouth, flapping its wings and kicking at the ground, clawing up great clods of dirt.

"Wish I could, man," I muttered, knowing he wouldn't hear me. My attack, and his, had bought some time, but the monster was too close, too fast, too strong, and now just too _mad_. Running wasn't in the cards.

Black streaks flashed in at it, sinking into its shell and drawing another pained shriek. It scrambled sideways, away from me, and I took the chance to gain some distance.

"Hey, assbeak! Over here!"

I recognized the voice, and it wasn't Shadow Stalker's.

"Motherfucker, are you kidding me!?" I shouted, head turning, looking for the source of the voice, just like the yian garuga was. I saw them. Two girls, my age, up on a nearby ridge. One held an oversized bow, hand already at her back, pulling another six-foot-long arrow from her quiver. The other had a huge gun held low in both hands, braced against her hip.

"Wingtip! Gunner!" I shouted, surprise and pain making my voice rough. "What the fuck are you two doing here?!"


	4. The Rage of Yian Garuga

**Chapter Four: The Rage of Yian Garuga**

"Oh hey, it's Hunter! Isn't that a surprise, Wingtip?"

Wingtip didn't answer Gunner. She just sighted down the length of her arrow, then loosed. It flew, and I saw that it wasn't just one arrow, but a bundle of them. They split apart, striking the yian garuga. One glanced off the beak, one skittered over its back without penetrating, but the third lodged in the hollow of its throat.

If it hurt the monster much, I couldn't tell, but it certainly made it angrier. It charged at the two newcomers, wings spread and head low, ignoring the hail of arrows and bullets sent at it. Gunner reacted at the last moment, taking one hand off her gun and raising it. There was a flash, and a grappling hook shot up. It caught on a tree branch, and at the same time Wingtip leaned in to grab her. The two of them shot upward, fast enough that anyone without a brute power would have had their arm pulled from its socket.

Of course, I knew these two. I knew they'd be fine.

The monster continued its rush, too clumsy and front-heavy to stop. It plowed into the ground where they'd been, splaying forward, its beak digging a furrow in the earth.

I should have taken the time to back off, gain some distance, especially with Rune still on my shoulder. The way she was breathing, in short gasps, she was badly off. Leaving would have been the smart thing to do.

I didn't. Instead I stood there, nearly frozen, my eyes darting over the monster, taking in all the details I could.

The position it was in, slowly climbing to its feet, I got a better look at it than I had before. It was maybe a bit shorter than I'd guessed at first, closer to eight feet at the shoulder than ten, but if anything it was even longer. Thirty feet at least, though it was all wings, legs, and neck. Thin and gangly, with a fairly small body. It had a tail, too, and for all that its beak and feet were bird-like, the tail was anything but. Long, flexible, and scaled, it flared out at the end, with a cluster of nasty spikes. Its back wasn't particularly birdlike either, covered in a segmented shell to make a lobster jealous, with more spikes protruding from it, thicker than those on the tail.

What stood out most, and what had probably skewed my initial impression – made it seem taller and more impressive – was the beak. It dominated the thing's head, and while the upper jaw was pretty standard – the sort of thing a real bird might sport – the bottom was different. Huge and jagged, it gave the monster a massive underbite. Seen small on a computer screen it would have looked silly, even a bit dumb, and the beady little eyes – eye, now, singular – didn't help. But I'd seen it up close, felt the stunning force it could deliver. To me, that beak wasn't anything other than intimidating.

It reached its feet without using its wings for assistance, and glanced up, making a sort of squawking chatter, opening its beak and clicking its tongue.

"Come on," Rifle whispered, coming up beside me. "While it's distracted."

Up in the tree, Wingtip leaned toward Gunner, whispered in her ear.

"You won't get away that easy!" Gunner shouted, pointing her free hand toward Rifle. "Not without our help, anyway!"

"She's right," I admitted. The words weren't easy to get out, but we weren't in a position where I could deny the obvious just because I didn't like it. "Look around. There's a reason they chose to jump in now."

Rifle did, taking in what I'd seen almost as soon as we'd emerged from under the tree. The forest floor around us was distressingly open. There were still plants and bushes, still tree roots to clamber over and around – or trip on – but not enough to use as cover. The reason was obvious, too. We'd reached the edge of the forest, where it joined the hills. We weren't quite out of the woods yet, in a very literal sense, but we were close. Going back wasn't an option, and going any further would just lead us up an increasingly rugged slope, with less and less cover.

Considering we were trying to escape a flying monster than could also outrun us in a footrace, it wasn't a good situation.

"Why now, then?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the monster. "Do they think they can kill it?"

"Probably not," I said. "I'm guessing this is extortion."

"Got it in one, Hunter!" Gunner shouted down at us. "We know what you're after here, and we want it! You give it to us, and we'll get you out of this little jam! Say no, and we're off, on our own, and you can do whatever with this guy!"

She punctuated her words with more shots, firing into the yian garuga's open beak just before it could spit a ball of fire at them. The shots hissed as they descended, then lodged in its mouth like sparklers for a moment before exploding, one after another. The light and sound of the explosions wasn't much, but I could feel the concussion in the air, even more than fifty feet away.

It said something, then, that afterward the monster just hopped in anger, clawing at the ground even as smoke drifted out of its beak.

"C'mon c'mon, make a choice!" Gunner shouted, yanking back a handle on the side of her gun and slamming more cartridges in. "This thing won't be off balance for long!"

"We accept!" Rifle shouted.

"What!?" I burst out. "Fuck-"

Rifle planted his palm on my face, pushing chain mesh into my mouth. I sputtered. "No time, and Rune's hurt," he said. "When shit hits the fan, take any out you can. _Any_ out."

"Goddammit," I growled, even as Gunner's face lit up in a grin.

"Alright!" she crowed. "Wingtip! Let's do this!"

Before, they'd clearly meant to distract the monster. They'd probably held back, doing their best to make the situation seem as dire as possible. Incentive to take their offer.

This was different. Now that Rifle had accepted their terms – vague as they were – they had no reason to do anything but go all out. Gunner braced herself, shuffling sideways until her back was against the trunk of the tree, then opened up. Dozens of shells rained down, flashing like tracers and smashing into the monster's back. Wingtip, for her part, pulled a cloth bundle out of a pouch and fastened it to the tip of an arrow before shooting it. When it hit, it exploded even harder than Gunner's sparkler shots had.

The yian garuga stumbled away under the combined barrage, then staggered, off-balance and dizzy. It broke into a run, moving to get away from the attacks, and quickly disappeared around the trunk of a huge tree.

"Easy peasy," Gunner said, hoisting her gun up and balancing it on her hip. "So, you losers ready to pay up?"

I got a sudden feeling. Not quite a premonition, but more than a guess. I opened my mouth, then snapped it closed.

"Was that it?" Rifle asked. "I was expecting some help getting away. Our teammate's hurt, and it's a long walk back to the station."

"Nah, we can get you back as quick as you want," Gunner said, waving aside his concern. "Deal's a deal, and we'll follow through. We just expect to be paid first."

"Fine," Rifle said. "Deal."

"Great!" Gunner said. "So-"

The sound of snapping branches was the only warning they got. The yian garuga came back into sight in a flurry of beating wings, crashing through the canopy to descend on Gunner and Wingtip, beak gaping, flaming spit dribbling from the corners.

Wingtip reacted first, pushing Gunner out of the way an instant before the monster hit. The force of its impact snapped the thick branch like a twig, and Wingtip went flying. They fell together, the wyvern pecking at her with its beak and clawing with its feet, but for all its speed and anger, it was still clumsy, and Wingtip was anything but. She lashed out with an arrow even as they fell, scraping it across its shell and stabbing into gaps between plates.

"Knew that would happen," I said, suppressing a grin. The way it had followed us, even going so far as to smash its way through the trees to keep the chase going... It was never going to be deterred by a simple barrage, no matter how much damage it did.

"You-" Rifle started, but he snapped his mouth shut as I lifted Rune off my shoulder, pushing her toward him. He fumbled a bit with his gun, then caught her with a grunt, his knees buckling slightly at the weight. Rune, for her part, groaned in pain, but didn't complain.

Then, before he could say anything more, I was off and running.

Wingtip and the monster landed together. The monster hit the ground hard, on its side, but it didn't seem any worse for it and sprung up quickly, spinning and flailing. Wingtip landed lightly, then rolled away, quickly vaulting over the barbed tail as it slashed down at her, gaining distance.

I came in low, sword and shield held ready, and chopped at its legs. Heavy strikes, angled downward, trying to catch on the scales, bite in. I managed, a bit. Drew some blood. It struck back, stomping down at me, head held high, aiming. I dodged one strike, whiffed the return blow, then caught another on my shield. The impact was brutal, but I held on.

Unfortunately, so did the monster. Its claw closed around my shield, digging into and then through the leather of my glove. Rings of metal screeched, but held, at least for a moment.

It was enough. With its focus on me, Wingtip was free to attack, and she did. Another one of those explosive bundles smashed into its beak, followed by two more triple-volleys, drawing out a shriek of pain.

I heaved – not up, it was too heavy – but sideways. Unsteady as it was from our attacks, and clumsy as it was by nature, it lost its balance. Not enough to send it to the ground, but enough that it let go of me, taking quick, flapping steps, trying to stay upright.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gunner, swinging from her grappling hook. She didn't join the fight, but instead landed beside Rifle, who'd been steadily backing away. She pulled something from a pouch, her mouth moving rapidly, probably explaining, but I didn't have time to see any more. I was too busy with the fight.

Wingtip and I worked well together. I'd known that for a long time. This was the first time we'd fought a monster together, but we did it as if we'd planned it out for hours beforehand. She was fast, light on her feet, and deadly accurate with her bow. I was just as fast, tireless, strong enough to take hits on my shield, and my sword was sharp enough that I could at least do some damage. We traded off, each of us playing distraction for the other, getting our hits in, and it wasn't long before the creature was bleeding in a dozen places.

But it was still a monster. A wyvern. The injuries we inflicted didn't slow it down any more than losing an eye had. It didn't lose strength as it bled. It just got madder, tried even harder to hit us.

Eventually it did.

It swiped at me with its tail, and I blocked, but it followed up with its bursting scream. I just crouched down behind my shield and took it, even though it made it feel like I had my head in a vice, but Wingtip stumbled back, dropping her bow and clutching at her head.

She'd always had sharper senses than Gunner or I, hearing included. It was usually an advantage, but this time she paid for it.

Seeing its enemy disabled, the yian garuga's head raised slightly, then shot forward, beak opening. A fireball rushed out, propelled by its own explosive power, and hit Wingtip high on the chest. It sent her flying and doused her arm, her side, and her leg in burning chemicals. She screamed, the first sound I'd heard out of her, rolling around and beating at her armor, trying to put it out.

The monster charged at her, head low to the ground, ready to bite. I followed, raising my shield and sweeping aside an incidental swipe of its tail, then I gathered myself and jumped. Rifle had said the tail was a weak-point, like its neck, and I aimed there now. The bundle of spikes was obviously a bad target, but just ahead of them the tail was thinner, the scales smaller. I brought my sword down as hard as I could, and it bit deep, through scales and into flesh.

It wasn't enough. The yian garuga hit Wingtip while she was still sprawled on the ground, and only a quick roll prevented the beak from closing on her and crushing her. Instead she was hit by the bulky lower jaw, and it sent her tumbling like a ragdoll. She rolled across the ground even as the monster fell once again, its own clumsy momentum too much to deal with.

I slashed at the tail while it was down, aiming to increase the damage I'd done, or at least draw its attention to me, but something stung me from behind, like a hive of angry bees attacking all at once. I swore and dived to the side, doing my best to put my shield between me and the assault.

It was Gunner, of course. She stood braced about fifteen feet away, her gun spitting out a flurry of tiny darts in a wide cone. Like birdshot from a shotgun, but the pellets were sharp, and there was a hell of a lot more of them. For all of that, they'd drawn more blood from me than they did from the monster.

"The fuck was that!?" I screamed at her.

"You were in the way, douche-canoe!" she shouted back, grinning. She turned her attention to Wingtip. "Hey, sis! We're done here! Get gone!"

Wingtip paused in the middle of climbing to her feet. She took a few quick steps forward and retrieved her bow, then pulled a round object from her pouch and tossed it at her feet. I recognized it just before it hit the ground. A standard issue bomb casing, meant to crumple with impact and spray out its contents. Green smoke puffed up out of this one, and when it cleared Wingtip was gone.

"The fuck?" I muttered.

"We're fucking ninjas!" Gunner crowed, stopping her assault on the monster just long enough to reload. It tried to climb to its feet, but this time she released a burst of shots that scattered on impact, detonating in a series of smaller explosions. It squawked in outrage, spewing a fireball her way, but she braced her gun, and for the first time I saw that it had a blast-shield attached, like old-timey artillery. She took the fireball on the shield, the impact sending her sliding back several feet, then continued to return fire.

I really wished it was less impressive. Really, really wished.

"So what now?" I asked, circling around the monster, going for its flank as it rounded on her.

"Well I could leave you behind!" she shouted over the sound of gunfire. "But I'm gonna be nice and show you a trick! Here!"

She lowered her gun, reached into her pouch, and tossed a handful of stuff at me. I caught it, then flicked my eyes down to look at it without taking my attention from the monster. It wasn't paying attention to me, though. It rushed at Gunner, and she raised her gun again, crouching down behind the shield and weathering the charge before spinning around. A jet of flame came from the barrel of her gun, hissing as it rose from red, to yellow, to blue, then exploding at point-blank range, intense enough that it sent the monster head-over-heels.

God, I _really_ wished I was less impressed.

"You've got the shit!" she said. "You should know what to do!"

Extra-annoyingly, I did. She'd tossed me a bomb casing – empty, by the weight – a little glass cylinder with some metal bits in it, a mushroom, and some vials of chemicals, one red and one clear. I'd never thought about anything like it before, but their purpose couldn't have been more obvious.

I sheathed my sword, already shaking up the red vial. I poured it into the cylinder, then crushed the mushroom in my hand and dropped it in as well. I flipped the top closed and pressed down on a metal plunger. The grating inside the lid squeezed down, almost like a french press, pushing the pulp to the bottom and leaving a bubbling red liquid inside. I quickly poured the clear vial on top of that, then shook the thing again. The liquid turned from red to green, and I opened the cylinder, used my thumb to flip open the bomb casing, and poured the liquid inside.

Then I flipped the bomb casing closed, pushed down a tab, and tossed it at my feet. It did what it was supposed to, vaporizing the liquid and sending up a burst of green vapor. It engulfed me, and I held my breath. There was a moment of disorientation, almost enough to send me stumbling, and suddenly I was somewhere else.

"Hunter!"

I turned toward the voice to see Rifle crouching over a cot. Rune was there, with her arm already bound to her chest and wrapped in bandages. What I could see of her face was pale, but she was already breathing more easily.

"The fuck?" I muttered again. It was obvious what had happened. I just couldn't figure out how some acid, a catalyst, and a fucking mushroom equaled teleportation, tinker power or not.

"It's our base."

The voice was soft, and right beside me. I did my best not to jump, then turned with all the dignity I could muster.

"Thanks, Wings," I said, almost as softly. "You alright?"

Wingtip shrugged, the motion quick and minimal, easy to miss. "I'm cool," she said.

I looked her over anyway, and she glanced away, her face turning a bit pink. She was shorter than me, but not by much, and slender. Unlike me, she didn't wear a mask. Never had. Just goggles, currently pushed up onto her forehead. The rest of her equipment was light, too, or at least lighter than mine. Leather instead of metal, dyed in greens and browns, with a blue-and-white mantle covering her neck and shoulders. Her knee pads were similar, blue and white leather that went from her thighs to midway down her shins, as well as gloves of the same material. Straps held everything in place and served as points to anchor half a dozen pouches of various sizes.

What struck me most, though, was the bow. When she'd been using it, it had been taller than her, but now it was folded in half and stowed on a hook on her back. More than that, it was made of bones. Two large ones for the arms, held together with plates of metal, and several others that would face forward when in use. Guide rails for the arrows, maybe?

A bit surprisingly, there didn't seem to be much damage from the fireball, though from the way she held an arm against her side, the same clearly wasn't true of the way the yian garuga had bulldozed her with its beak.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked her.

She shrugged again. "I heal," she said, pointedly, a bit of rebuke in her voice for all that it was still barely loud enough to hear. "Same as you."

"Yeah," I said. "Guess so."

"What about you?" she asked, reaching out to tap at my breastplate.

I winced, pain lancing through my shoulder, and glanced down. The metal plate was caved in at the corner, right where it met my shoulderpad. From when I'd taken the first hit, I had to assume. The one I hadn't been able to block.

"Shit," I said. "Didn't even notice."

"You should take better care of yourself," she said. "I can't always save you."

"I've got a team to do that now," I snapped, sharper than I'd intended.

Wingtip's face went blank. "They didn't help you this time," she said without any inflection, then turned and walked over to a tent that blended into the surroundings. She brushed aside the flap and ducked in.

I stared at the tent. It was probably for the best. The less contact, the better.

"You done?" Rifle asked, his eyes shifting between me and the tent. "From what I can tell we should be just an hour or two from the station, so we should get ready to go. Rune needs to see a medic."

"We should-" I started, then stopped as a puff of green smoke billowed up, and Gunner tumbled into sight. She rolled head over heels, then planted the butt of her gun to halt herself, slamming it down harder than she needed to.

She stayed like that for a moment, smoke – black, rather than green – rising from charred patches on both her armor and the shield of her gun, then sprung upright.

"Hell yeah!" she crowed, pumping her fist up and down. "Rescue sorted! Mission successful!" She held out her hand to me, palm up. "Payment, if you please."

I crossed my arms, then nodded toward Rifle. She blinked at him. "That dweeb?" she asked. "Really?"

"Yes, me," he said, standing up and walking over to her. He shouldered his gun as he came, and Gunner did the same, pursing her lips and squinting at him.

"Mine's bigger," she declared once he reached her.

He ignored her and reached into a pouch, coming out with the mushroom we'd found earlier. She stared down at it, her features slowly morphing through confusion and into anger.

"I didn't ask for part of your haul," she said. "I know the mission called for ten samples. I want _all_ of them. Now, if you please."

I chuckled, and she rounded on me. "That _is_ all," I told her before she could say anything. "We didn't have time to find more before getting attacked. You really should be more careful when making a deal, you know?"

She glared at me for a moment, then deliberately smoothed her face. "Whatever," she said, then turned, swiped the mushroom out of Rifle's hand, and jammed it into a belt pouch. "It's still a net profit, and even if I can't make serious bank, at least I get to know you fags are going home empty-handed. That's gotta sting, huh? One teammate injured, and nothing to show for it?"

"So, tell me, who was it that thought up this idea?" I asked. "You or W-"

She turned and slapped me, hard. My head snapped to the side.

I raised a hand to rub at my face, giving her a grin. Even with my mask in the way, her scowl deepened. "Thought so," I said with as much smugness as I could manage.

"Are we done?" Rifle asked, and I blinked. I'd almost forgotten about him.

"Yeah, we're done," I said. "Let's go."

He stepped back to Rune's cot, and I hurried to join him, patting Gunner's shoulder on the way. She slapped at my hand, and I chuckled. We reached down and hoisted the cot, and Gunner didn't object. We left without another word.

From outside, the camp was nearly invisible, built into a little hollow of ground between two hills, with thick grass and some especially nasty thorned plants hiding it at ground-level, and some overhanging trees making it difficult to see from above.

We moved in silence for a while, both of us staying alert for signs of the yian garuga or other monsters, but nothing appeared. After we were well away from the camp, Rifle spoke.

"You know those two?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"They part of your cluster?"

"Yeah."

He grunted. "Any more that I should know about?"

"Nah, just us three."

"Lucky they were there."

"Wasn't it just?"

He turned to look at me over his shoulder. "That all you have to say about it?"

"Yup," I told him.

He grunted again. "This is going to cause problems, you know."

"Chances are," I agreed.

"First thing you learn in the heist business is never to bring anything from your outside life to the job. You do and you're asking for a hell of a lot of trouble."

"Good advice," I said. "I'd follow it if I could."

He fell silent after that, and we kept moving. As he'd predicted, we were close to the station, and it wasn't long before we spotted its squat gray form from the top of a rise. We hurried down the hill, making our way toward the cart bay.

There, waiting for us, was Shadow Stalker. She perked up as we came into sight, then perked up even further when she saw Rune on the stretcher.

"Figured she'd be here," Rifle said, his voice low, as if he was talking to himself.

"Hey losers, check it out!" she called as we approached, holding up a lumpy, bulging bag. "I got fourteen 'shooms. What about you guys?"

"Hah!" I burst out, causing her to tilt her head for a moment.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh man," I said, setting Rune's cot down carefully and shaking my head. "Have I got a story for you."

She strode toward us and hooked the bag to her belt, then brushed her cloak over it, hiding it from sight.

"Well don't just stand there, asshole," she said. "Dish."


	5. Carnivore Carnival

**Chapter Five: Carnivore Carnival**

"Hey, excuse me."

The receptionist ignored me, head bend down, focused on the screen in front of her. I leaned over the desk and flicked her earbud out of her ear. She jumped, glancing around, and then focused on me, glaring daggers.

"Hey, yeah," I said. "Can you tell me how to get to the gym?"

Her glare intensified, but she sat up and pointed.

"That way," she said, her voice suspiciously level. "Past the canteen. The only entry is through the changing rooms, and you'll need your ID card."

I snapped my fingers. _That_ was why I hadn't been able to find it. "Right. Thanks."

"There's also direct elevator access from the barracks, if you're staying with us," she added. "Same for the canteen. You can get to the secure dining room directly."

"Thanks," I said again, then turned away, walking in the direction she'd indicated. I hitched my gym bag back up onto my shoulder as I went. It kept sliding down my shoulderpad.

I glanced around as I crossed the foyer. It was much the same as it had been the last time I'd come through, with Shadow Stalker. A large space made of concrete, metal, and glass, brightly lit by early afternoon sunlight. There weren't any capes occupying the scattered seats this time, but there was a group of about a dozen men and women in suits, clustered together around a burnished steel table. They had a few briefcases open, with papers scattered around and between them. A couple of them glanced up as I passed, but didn't give me more than a cursory look.

The smells from the canteen were pretty tempting, but I passed it up, searching for the changing rooms the receptionist had mentioned. I found them quickly enough, and a swipe of my ID card saw the door slide open noiselessly.

Inside, it wasn't quite what I'd expected. I'd been a member of a few gyms in the past, after getting my power, and the changing rooms had all been the same. Lockers along the walls, wooden benches, tile floors, shower stalls, and a moderate-to-low level of hygiene. This one, on the other hand, was just a hallway, maybe fifty feet long, with an elevator at the other end and a number of close-spaced doors along one wall.

I sauntered over to a door and took a look at it. The handle was recessed into the door, and it had red letters above it. 'In Use'. The next door over was similar, but for the third door the letters were green. 'Available'. I tried the handle, and it opened easily.

Inside, it was more like what I'd been expecting. One wall sported a low bench, with some hooks above it and a single spacious locker to the side. The other wall had a full-length mirror, a few stands of different shapes, and even what looked like a dressing dummy. The last wall held another door, with a slot much like the one that had got me into the changing room in the first place. There was just the vaguest hint of sweat and BO on the air.

"Simple enough," I muttered. A place for a cape to change out of their costume, stuff to store it in or on, and another card reader, probably to lock anyone else out while using the room.

I changed, removing my armor piece by piece and hanging it on the dressing dummy. I gave my repaired breastplate a once over as I did. The damage from the yian garuga was gone, hammered out in the workshop space I'd been granted as a tinker, but there was still some visible scarring. It should be just as strong as before, but I wouldn't know that for sure until I tested it in a hunt.

Once I was stripped down to my underwear, I paused to look at myself in the mirror. The bruises I'd got from the velocidrome were completely gone, but the marks from the yian garuga still lingered. Deeper damage, too much to get rid of in just three days. I stretched, raising my right arm up over my head, then bending my torso to the left, seeing the way the movement changed and distorted the yellowish blotch that spread from my chest up to my shoulder. There were some darker stripes there, still purple, where my ribs had been cracked, though the bones themselves were long healed.

It didn't hurt, and I gave my reflection a satisfied nod, and a little flex.

"Lookin' good," I told myself.

That done, I fished my gym clothes out of my bag and pulled them on. Green and brown compression shorts with a little triangle pattern in red and yellow at the waist. Lifting gloves and some flat-soled shoes in the same colors. Not that I needed the gloves or shoes. With my power I didn't exactly have to worry about blisters or chafing.

Then I swiped my card, the door slid open, and I walked out into the gym.

Like the changing room, it wasn't what I'd been expecting. In the past I'd generally made do with normal equipment, focusing on volume of reps rather than trying to find a barbell strong enough to pile on a ton of plates. Literally, in some cases. But this place had clearly been designed with capes in mind, and none of the equipment was anything resembling standard. For one thing, the place was huge, but not in a way that implied it would be used by a lot of people. There weren't dozens of machines and weight benches around, crammed in everywhere they'd fit. Instead it had a small number of stations, spread far apart, each seemingly designed around providing one person with as much flexibility as possible.

If I was honest with myself, it was a bit intimidating. I tracked one person as they approached, jogging at speed along a large track that went around most of the room. They passed, giving me an odd look, then turning their attention back to the track. Just in time, since a trio of shapes sprung up out of the track right in front of them, kind of reminiscent of a wyvern's claws, and they went into a roll, dodging between them. Once they were through, the pseudo-claws slowly retracted, hydraulics hissing quietly.

"Hey! Hunter!"

I tracked the source of the voice to see Shadow Stalker waving at me. She hadn't changed into gym clothes, though she had removed her cloak and cowl, as well as her armored knee and elbow pads, leaving her in her black bodysuit and metal mask. It was the first time I'd seen her without the cloak, and it was... impressive. Most people couldn't pull off a skintight bodysuit, especially without accessories, and maybe some color or a pattern to break things up. Shadow Stalker could, and not in the way most people would imagine. She didn't have a bombshell body, and she'd never be mistaken for a pinup model. She was slender, with long legs and a narrow waist, and the word that occurred to me was 'trim'. No excess fat on her anywhere. Not that she was skinny either, she had too much muscle for that, but even there she was more whipcord than weightlifter. Someone who'd honed their body for movement and action. In Shadow Stalker's case, I had no doubt that the actions she'd trained her body for were violent.

In other words, I'd rarely seen anyone that looked better than she did.

There wasn't anyone coming on the track right then, so I crossed it and made my way over to her, giving the machines and other incomprehensible stations a wide berth. Some were occupied, people I didn't recognize doing exercises that were mostly unfamiliar. One older guy, standing off to the side in the middle of a series of moving silhouettes that fed up from slots in the floor, was pretty obviously doing target practice. He stood still, his expression focused, until some unseen signal set him off. Then he spun around, hands lashing out, sending twisting arcs of white light out from his fingertips to slice the targets apart.

I recognized the power. That would make him Segment, a veteran hero that had transferred into the city when the portal opened. I heard that he'd been one of the first responders, fighting off the initial monsters that had appeared, and after that he'd requested the transfer. The official reason was his desire to be in at the start when a new city transitioned from training and patrol to active hunting, but the rumor that was going around said that he'd fallen in love with another hero in the city, and wanted to be close to her.

 _Come to think of it..._

The woman that had been on the track fit the general build of Papier, and she was on his team.

By the time I reached her, Shadow Stalker was back to what she'd been doing, running on a modified treadmill. Up close I could see that her bodysuit wasn't made of the same cloth as her cloak. It wasn't leather or latex either, and I couldn't quite pin down what it was. It clung to her, moved with her, but it was thick enough that it wasn't indecent. It also covered her entirely, even without the cloak, leaving just her hair free, tied in a ponytail and bobbing up and down as she ran.

When I did say anything right away, she turned to face me, then shook her head, not breaking stride.

"You're fine going shirtless, but you still wear your helmet?" she asked.

"It's okay to stare," I told her. "I don't mind."

She snorted, then reached out to punch my shoulder, where the bruises were still the darkest.

"You're dreaming," she scoffed, then glanced at me, looking me up and down. "Uh, given the armor, I expected you to be more... buff, I guess."

"Everyone knows the ladies like a swimmer's build," I said. "Besides, where am I supposed to find weights heavy enough to to get seriously jacked? My swole-ness is limited by circumstances."

She burst out a quick laugh. "Oh my god," she said. "Go away. Go get swole, or whatever. Weight stations are over there. A few have a brute setting."

I gave her a mock salute, then headed off in the direction she'd indicated.

The weight stations were a lot like the rest of the place. Weird. No actual weights. Instead they were machines I hadn't seen before, although they looked a bit like a mechanical version of a power cage, with a ton of extra gadgets attached. I chose the one that looked the biggest, ducked under a metal bar, and sat down on the padded seat. There was a little touch screen there, and I fiddled with it.

It was, in the end, fairly straightforward. A bunch of settings that caused the machine to reconfigure for specific exercises, with hydraulic resistance to simulate weights up to ten tons.

Ten tons, unfortunately, proved to be too much for me to move, and I felt a bit silly straining to pull the bar off the floor without it budging an inch.

Four tons, however, I could do. Barely.

I moved through my normal exercises. With my power I didn't need to warm up or worry about training injuries. I didn't need to worry about tiring out, either, or dedicating my workout days to specific muscle groups. Push-pull-legs or upper-lower splits weren't necessary. I could do a full-body workout every day without issue. So I did. Deadlifts, squats, weighted dips and pullups, bench press, overhead press, and a ton of accessories.

I'd done similar routines before getting my power, though at much lower intensity, and back then I'd tried to cram everything into an hour. I'd been thinking I might need to do something similar here, working with so much extra weight, but that wasn't the case at all. I reached the end of an hour drenched in sweat, but no more tired than I'd been at the start.

"Huh," I said, sitting up and letting the bar retract into the machine.

"Not bad," Shadow Stalker said, and I sprang up, half-spinning before I realized it was her. She chuckled.

"Okay, point to you," I said. "Practicing sneaking around?"

"Nah, you were just oblivious," she said, flicking a finger against my helmet. She was leaning partway into the cage, one arm above her head, planted against the outside of the machine, and I saw that she'd retrieved her crossbows at some point. One was clipped to her belt, but the other dangled casually in her hand. Target practice, I assumed.

"But really, not bad," she continued. I wiggled my eyebrows, and she snorted, flicking me again. "Not that, dumbass. I'm talking about your workout. As much of a lazy douche as you are, I was expecting something half-assed. This the level of performance I can expect for the future?"

"Baby, I can always per-" I started, and her crossbow rose up slightly. "Why yes. I always take working out seriously. I was actually thinking of going through my sets again."

"Really?" she asked, glancing down at me. I resisted making another comment. "Most guys, if they're sweating like that, they're done." I resisted really hard.

"Power thing," I said. "I'm not that strong, as brutes go-"

"Cluster trigger," she said. "Lots of powers, but they're all pretty weak."

"I prefer to say they're more focused," I said. "I've got strength, toughness, and healing from my brute power, but the major focus is stamina. I pretty much never get tired. I get hungry as hell, and I can get out of breath sometimes, but I don't get tired."

"Yes you do," she said. "You sleep all the fucking time. Pretty sure you were asleep for a full day after that shit with the mushrooms."

"Aw, didn't know you cared," I said, clasping my hands together and turning to her.

She took her hand off the cage to swat me with her crossbow, then put it back. "Focus," she said.

"I do sleep a lot," I said. "But not because I'm tired. It's the condition for my enhanced senses. The more rested I am, the better they work, and the faster I can think. But I never actually _have_ to sleep. I can stay in action for at least four or five days, if I need to, assuming I can get enough food. But if I do, I'm no sharper than a regular person. Though, healing's a bit of a spanner there. It's part of my brute power, and that's tied to food, but if I sleep more I also heal quicker. Think I told you that before."

"No offense, but your power's a bit of a clusterfuck," she told me.

"None taken, and you're not wrong," I said. "So, I answered your question. Mind if I ask one of my own?"

"Knowing you, probably," she said. "But whatever, ask away."

"Why do you care if I take my workouts seriously?" I asked.

She paused for a moment, possibly caught off-guard. Then she shrugged again, maybe a little less casually than before. "It shows dedication," she said. "That's important. I want to know if you can keep up with me. I don't know about you, but I don't intend to be picking mushrooms and fighting bird wyverns forever."

"That's fair," I admitted. "But if we're being serious and dedicated here, I gotta ask. Are you going to actually fight with us going forward, or just run off like last time?"

She pushed herself back and straightened up, staring down at me. The hand that held her crossbow went tight, but she didn't raise it.

"I remind you, I don't care who Rune is, or who she ran with," I said. "I don't care what you did before this, either."

"If I hadn't run off, we would have failed the mission," she said. Her voice was level, no strain in it that I could detect.

"Sure," I said, then patted my chest where the bruise was still healing. "But maybe I wouldn't have got hurt. Maybe Rune wouldn't have either, but I can't imagine you care about that."

"I don't," she said, voice still very controlled. I just stared at her, waiting for her to go on. "Okay, I'm sorry for running off," she burst out after a minute. "That what you wanted to hear?"

"Not really," I said. "I don't care if you're sorry. I wouldn't care if you weren't sorry, either. I just want to know, so I can prepare accordingly. You know they're not going to give us a different team, right?"

"Yeah, I know it," she said, looking away and crossing her arms.

"This whole thing, bringing the misfits into the junior Protectorate, it's probably a one-time-only deal," I said.

"I know it," she said again.

"There's a reason we're here, rather than New York or somewhere else with a portal nexus," I continued. "There aren't any other junior teams here. No replacement team members, nobody to get hurt if this crashes and burns. Just experienced teams who can handle it when shit goes down. We aren't-"

"I know it!" she shouted, stepping forward again and leaning down, her face close to mine. "I know this is a one-time deal," she hissed. "I know that no matter what Chevalier says, they're waiting for us to fuck up so they can kick us out. I know that if we mess this up, the PRTCJ will be waiting to take us in."

"I think Chevalier at least believes in this," I broke in, raising a hand to stop her. "I think the PRTCJ will probably let us go too, assuming we're willing to keep fighting monsters. They're fine with villains, after all, as long as they're not _villains_."

"Maybe," she said more calmly, straightening back up. It was a quick change. "But maybe some of us need this, you know?"

"Maybe," I said. I didn't press her. Didn't ask the obvious question. She'd said before that she was in it for herself. Obviously there was a story there, and this was just a confirmation. But I doubted she'd be willing to share it. "So we both know that we need this team to work out. What's the plan?"

"Fuck, I don't know," she said. "It'd be easier if I knew you were on my side, rather than hers."

"It'd be even easier if there weren't any sides," I pointed out.

She just snorted derisively. "Yeah, sure," she said. "So, you done working out?"

"Nah," I said, after a moment's hesitation. "I think I'm done lifting, though. Gonna get some cardio in."

"Can you even?" she asked. "You said you don't get tired."

"Don't know," I said, standing up and ducking out of the cage. Shadow Stalker moved to walk beside me. "Can't hurt though, can it? Wanna take on the track with me?"

"Sure," she said. "C'mon."

She stepped ahead of me, and I followed her over to a wall. She tapped it and a fairly complicated control panel folded out. She messed with the settings, then stepped onto the track.

"Keep up," she said, the words clipped.

"Sure," I agreed.

We ran. Without her power, she fell behind at first. I could afford to set a more punishing pace, and keep it up better. I knew she could have shifted to her shadow state, used it for longer, quicker jumps like she had before, though the lack of her cape to glide on would have hurt her a bit. She didn't, though. She just ran, and for a minute I thought that was all she meant to do.

Then the first obstacles popped up. Blank rectangles rose up out of the floor rather than the claw-shapes I'd seen maybe-Papier dodge earlier. I sidestepped them and kept going. Lower ones popped up, and I vaulted them. Others lowered from the ceiling, and I ducked underneath. Even though their timing and placement was random, I got into a rhythm quickly enough. They popped up – or down, or out – pretty fast, but not so fast that I didn't have time to change direction and still keep my stride.

It was a good workout, full-body in a different way than weightlifting, and I would have bet that a normal person wouldn't have been able to manage it.

Except Shadow Stalker did. Before we were halfway around the track she was already catching up, even without her power. She slid around each obstacle with ease, using her hands much like I was, but better. She didn't just keep her momentum, she flat-out sped up. She was shorter than me, but her legs were long, built for running, and her technique was superb.

We finished the first lap in a dead heat. By the second, she was twenty feet ahead. She would have kept the lead, too, but without her power she was only human. She started to tire, and by the third lap she was breathing hard but steady, and we were even again. By the fourth lap her breathing started to get ragged, and I pulled ahead.

On the fifth lap she dropped out, bending down and planting her hands on her knees, panting hard.

I slowed, then stepped off the track, walking over to her. As soon as I left, all the obstacles folded back into wherever they'd come from. Floor, wall, or ceiling.

"You set a hard pace," she said between breaths.

"You could have used your power," I said.

"Not for that," she said.

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Doesn't matter," she said, straightening up and running her hands through her hair. Some of it had come loose during the run, and she fiddled with it until it was back in a neat ponytail. "Don't worry about it."

"Sure," I agreed. "Still, that was pretty amazing. Buy you breakfast, as payment?"

"Only if I'd won," she said. "Besides, we both eat free."

"That did factor into the offer," I said.

"Of course," she said. "Dick."

I nodded acknowledgment. "So, breakfast?"

She started to nod, then stopped as one of the doors to a changing room slid open. Another followed a moment later.

"Fuck," she spat. "Were you two waiting for us to finish?"

"We were," Rifle admitted, stepping over to us. Rune was just behind him. They both wore their costumes.

"Hey," I said to Rune, raising my hand in greeting. "How's the arm?"

"It's fine," she said, not looking at me. I raised an eyebrow at that. It was still in a sling, although a more modern one than the jury rigged thing Rifle had made for her.

"If you two want to work out, we're done here," Shadow Stalker said, brushing past Rifle and heading to the changing room.

"Wait a second," he said. "I think we should talk, first."

"Say what you want," she said. "But I'm leaving."

"I talked to Chevalier," he said, and she stopped.

"Yeah? What about?" she asked, with clearly forced casualness.

"A few things," he said.

"Don't bullshit me," she snapped, wheeling on him. She jabbed her finger out, poking him in the chest to punctuate her words. He took a step back, grimacing.

"I'm not bullshitting anyone," he said. "At least nobody on this team. It's bad business. That's what I'm here to talk about, actually."

"Spare me," Shadow Stalker said, tossing her head. She crossed her arms though, clearly waiting for whatever he had to say.

"This is the first chance we've had to talk as a group since we got back from the mission," he said, glancing between me and Rune.

"Not my fault," I said. "You could have contacted me whenever."

"You didn't answer your e-mail," he said.

"Oh. Whoops."

"It doesn't matter. Rune was in the infirmary anyway," he said. "But that's part of the point. Neither of you came to visit-"

"You can't possibly be surprised about _that,_ " Shadow Stalker said.

"No," he admitted. "It is a bit disappointing, though."

"I'm just not the nurturing type," I said, more to Rune than to him. "It didn't mean anything beyond that."

"Sure," she said, still not looking at me.

"That's just part of it," Rifle continued. "You'll note, here, that we're all still wearing our masks."

"Mask doesn't come off," I said, tapping my finger against my helmet.

"Yeah, I'm not about to unmask in front of a Nazi," Shadow Stalker said. "Pretty sure she feels the same about me." Rune gave a quick, sharp nod. "You want someone to share, why don't you start?"

"Okay, sorry to break in," I said, stepping between Rifle and Shadow Stalker. "But why is this a problem? I'm fine working with you guys without unmasking."

"Are you really?" Rifle asked, giving me a pointed look.

"Sure," I said. "Why not? It's not like we need to know each others names or whatever to go on a hunt. I'd say it's even better this way. Keeps things professional. You're all about that, aren't you?"

"Being on a team requires _trust_ ," Rifle said, emphasizing the word. "It's hard to trust someone when you don't know what kind of person they are."

"I trust you," I told him. "You too," I added, patting Shadow Stalker's shoulder. She shrugged my hand off. "You too," I added, nodding to Rune. "Besides, mask or no mask, I already know what kind of people you all are."

"You don't know shit about me," Shadow Stalker said.

"I know you're competitive," I said. "You don't like to lose, and you love a good fight at least a quarter as much as I do. You're pissed off about Rune for moral reasons that have nothing to do with anything she's actually done, and you resent the need to prove yourself to either Chevalier or Rifle."

"I like to fight _way_ more than a quarter as much as you do," she said, jabbing me with a finger, like she had Rifle. "Want me to prove it?"

"Kinda," I admitted.

She scoffed, turning away. "You're not that lucky."

"You think I want you to prove yourself to me?" Rifle asked her.

"I couldn't give less of a shit what you think of me," she snapped.

"You may not want her to prove herself," I told Rifle. "But you definitely think she should. You're a professional thief, and you think your experience means that the rest of us should listen to you."

"Not a hard read," he said. "Besides, am I wrong?"

"Nah, you're right," I admitted, waving away the question. "But that's not what you should be focusing on. We ain't thieves. We're Protectorate. Our job is to hunt monsters, and so far the only people here who've actually done that are me and Shadow Stalker."

He frowned. "Are you saying I should defer to you two, then, when it comes to hunting? Because I think that would be a mistake."

"No, nothing like that," I told him. "If anything, I'd back you as team leader, but-"

Rifle lowered his hands to his sides, clearly surprised, but it was Shadow Stalker that reacted first.

"Wait, _what,_ " she said. "Are you for real? You want this asshole to lead?"

"Kinda," I said. "He's obviously willing to do it, and he made pretty good decisions when we were fighting the yian garuga. More importantly, he made them fast." I turned to him. "You weren't perfect. Sorry. But perfection isn't something I ask for. Just good enough."

"Thanks," he said.

"I'd second him," Rune said, though her voice was quiet.

"Of course you would," Shadow Stalker said, then glanced at me. "You gonna do her too? You did me and Rifle, wouldn't want her to feel left out of the _team._ "

"Nah," I said. "No need. Besides, she hasn't said much so far, so I don't have the best read on her. She did pretty well in the fight, though, so there's that."

"Thanks," Rune said.

"This is retarded," Shadow Stalker said. "I'm out."

"Out, or _out_?" Rifle asked.

"I'm going to get breakfast!" she snapped, tossing her hands up. "Don't be so fucking dramatic!"

"Just wait a second," he said. "I said I talked to Chevalier about a few things. We've got our next mission, tomorrow. We'll meet him at the portal station at three in the afternoon. You can do whatever you want, but I'd like to ask that we continue this conversation at some point before then."

"Pass," Shadow Stalker said, chopping her hand down. "You can be the leader or whatever you please, but there's no way I'm having a sharing session with you."

"Fine," he said. "I can't make you."

"You're damn right you can't," she said. "Later."

She walked over to a door, swiped her card, then stepped inside. The door shut as soon as she was through.

Rifle sighed, running a hand through his hair. Rune just stood there, staring off to the side, shoulders slightly hunched.

"Well," I said, hooking my thumbs through the waistband of my shorts. "I think I'm gonna get breakfast too."


	6. Trouble in the Forest

**Chapter Six: Trouble in the Forest**

"Welcome to the Philadelphia portal station."

Chevalier spread his arms, gesturing around the small room. I looked around, but didn't see anything particularly interesting. Just a few tables, some chairs, a couch, some cabinets, and a little kitchenette.

"No offense, but all that's missing is a shitty old TV to make this place look like a Walmart break room," I said.

Chevalier chuckled. "You're not far wrong. You'll find that when it comes to their public face, the Protectorate spares no expense, and places like this suffer as a result."

"We've all been through the portal more than once," Rifle said. "What makes this room so special?"

"You've all been through the civilian sections of the station," Chevalier said, resting his arms on the grip of his cannonblade and leaning forward. "Those are for shipping freight or moving passengers. This is the part of the station that's limited to active Protectorate teams. Normally there would be a longer trial period before you'd be allowed to use the facilities, but your performance against the yian garuga convinced some people that fast-tracking you would be of benefit."

"Just pointing this out, but we got our asses kicked," I said.

"That's one way to look at it," Chevalier said. "But I wouldn't say it's the only one. The yian garuga is the largest bird-class wyvern on record, and it's very aggressive, with several dangerous para-animal powers. The classification team has it ranked as a four-star monster, limited to teams with a proven track-record and at least a dozen kills under their belts. It got the drop on you, your team was down a man-" Shadow Stalker shifted uncomfortably beside me "-and you still managed to escape without serious injuries. Yes, you had help, and yes the situation would normally call for some oversight and possibly an investigation, but it's still a significant achievement."

"So as long as we do well, we get to gloss over our fuck-ups?" Rune asked.

"Not the way I'd put it, but you could say that," Chevalier admitted. If he was reluctant or unhappy about that, I couldn't hear it in his voice.

"I appreciate the information..." Rifle trailed off.

"It's what I'm here for," Chevalier said. "But?"

"But it still doesn't explain what the room's for."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. It's not that complicated. There's a lot of prep work that goes into most hunts, including research, tracking, and acquiring necessary supplies and equipment. As much of that as possible is done beforehand, by the administration and supply divisions."

Rune raised her hand, and Chevalier nodded to her. Shadow Stalker scoffed audibly.

"Who are the supply and administration divisions?" Rune asked, lowering her hand. "Unless that's something I'm already supposed to know?"

"The information is available, but no, you're not expected to know it," Chevalier told her. "In the past we've tried running junior Protectorate teams like classrooms, providing all information upfront, but it hasn't produced good results. That's why most departments moved to something like this, with individual heroes mentoring younger teams, and a focus on practical hunts. As to the question itself, those divisions are the parts of the Protectorate made up of non-parahuman members, or parahumans not suited to hunting. The supply division handles costumes, armor, weapons, and other supplies. The administration division handles money and information, as well as the bureaucratic work it takes to keep things running behind the scenes."

"Okay, thanks," Rune said.

"So, just a guess, but if we ask for some stuff, bombs or whatever, they'll be delivered here before a hunt?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Exactly," Chevalier said. "This room, to continue my previous point, is a secure, fortified area within the station. There aren't any recording devices, so you can change into or out of your costume in safety. There's also secure access, so you can arrive in civilian clothes if you want, without worrying about your identity. And yes, any provisions you request from the supply division, including bombs, will be here when you arrive."

"How would that work, normally?" Rifle asked. "We get assigned hunts-"

Chevalier held up his hand, and Rifle stopped. "Not to interrupt, but once you become a fully-fledged team you won't be assigned hunts. You'll be allowed to choose your targets yourself."

"Oh," I said, perking up. "I like that."

"Most do," Chevalier said. "Anyway, I said before that the classroom style hasn't had good results in the past, so let's leave the question and answer session until later. This is meant to be a practical field exercise. I'm just here in case there's any problems, and I won't be accompanying you through the portal. So, shall we get started?"

"Hell yes," I said, straightening up from where I'd been lounging against the wall. "What's the target?"

Instead of answering, Chevalier stepped over to the cabinet. He opened it and pulled out a clipboard covered in papers, then tossed it onto the table. "All the information you need is there, or at least everything the administration division could put together. If you need anything else, I'll be out in the lobby for the next ten minutes. Beyond that, it's all up to you."

"Works for me," I said, sauntering over to the table and dropping into a chair.

"Same," Shadow Stalker said, moving to join me.

Chevalier met all our eyes one last time, then shouldered his cannonblade and left through the same door we'd all come in.

Rifle frowned after him, then came to sit at the table with us. He spun the clipboard around and pulled it toward himself. "I'm not entirely happy with this," he said.

"You could have told that to Chevalier," I pointed out. "I doubt he'd hold it against you."

"No, but the rest of you would," he said. I blinked at him, and he let out a quick laugh, his mouth twisting up into a sardonic smile for a moment before returning to his normal, neutral expression. "You aren't the only one that can pull the psych one-oh-one shit, you know."

"Huh," I said.

Rifle started flipping through the papers, and I left him to it. He skimmed them quickly, occasionally flipping back to read something in more depth. Behind me I could hear Rune rummaging around in the cabinets, as well as the cupboards above the sink in the kitchenette.

"So, what's it say?" Shadow Stalker asked after a few minutes.

"Mostly legal jargon," Rifle said. "Copies of the indemnity waivers we signed, acknowledgment of the risks involved in the mission, reaffirmation of the medical benefits we're entitled to if we're hurt, criminal consequences of releasing information about monsters and secret identities to the public, levees placed on our salaries in case of mission failure, yadda yadda. Standard stuff."

"So bullshit, mostly?" Shadow Stalker asked, leaning her chair back and planting her feet on the table. "Boring."

"Yeah," Rifle said, then paused. "Oh. Reward for this mission is ten thousand dollars, split between us. That's a big jump from last time."

"What did we get for the mushroom run?" I asked.

"You don't know?" Shadow Stalker asked, tilting her head to stare at me. "Really?"

"Haven't been to the bank yet," I said. "Room and board's free, you know?"

"Idiot," she muttered. "Mushrooms were two thousand for the team. Five hundred for each of us. We both got sixteen hundred for the velocidrome, by the way."

"Not bad for a week's work," I said.

"Not as good as this," Rifle said, tapping the clipboard. "And this is just a two-star hunt."

"You find the target yet?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Yeah," he said, spinning the clipboard toward us so we could look at it. Shadow Stalker leaned in closer, but I could see fine from where I was. Pictured there was a very familiar looking monster in grainy black-and-white.

"Yian kut-ku," I said, reading the text printed under the picture. "I'll be honest, that looks a lot like the yian garuga."

"Similar family," Rifle said. "They're both large bird wyverns that can fly and spit fire. But this type's a lot smaller, and weaker in general. It doesn't have the same ability to roar, either. No sonic attack."

"Does it fight the same way?" Shadow Stalker asked. "If it does, that might be why we got the mission. Already took on the big daddy, so the little one shouldn't be much trouble."

"It's possible," Rifle said, ignoring the fact that Shadow Stalker hadn't fought with us the last time. "Either way, we should get moving."

"Maybe take a look at this first," Rune said, stepping over to the table. A wide, flat cardboard box floated ahead of her. It settled down beside the clipboard, and I saw that it was divided into sections. Four by four, with sixteen little spheres filling them. I'd seen something a lot like it before.

"Bomb casings," I said. They were color coded. Four white, four yellow, four pink, and four brown. "Or just bombs, I guess."

Rifle nodded. "Standard ones," he agreed.

"There's three more boxes like this one, and some other stuff," Rune said. "Think we're allowed to take them?"

"Probably," I said. "And if not, we should take them anyway."

"Agreed," Rifle said, reaching out to run his fingers over them. "Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, and it's always better to be well prepared." He turned to Rune. "You said there was more?"

"Yeah," she said, pointing to the cabinets in the corner. "First aid kits, water bottles, those astronaut food packs, and some stuff I didn't recognize."

"I'll look through them," he said, standing up and heading over. "Can the rest of you fill up the water bottles and decide who's carrying what?"

"Sure," Rune said, joining him for a moment. She reached into the open cabinet, and a moment later five water bottles floated out.

"Okay, so who's got what?" Shadow Stalker asked me as Rune made her way over to the sink and started filling the bottles.

"I can carry whatever," I said. "Hand it out when needed. I don't have a pack or anything though, so that's a limit."

"Shouldn't be a problem today," Rifle said. "Something to think about for the future."

"I guess I'll take some bombs," Shadow Stalker said, reaching into the carton. She picked a few bombs out and hefted them. They fit easily in the palm of her hand, slightly angular spheres made up of flat geometric shapes. "Do we know what works on a kut-ku?"

"Dropping the yian?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"No reason I can think of," I said.

"They're vulnerable to sonic attacks," Rifle told her. "Most monsters are, at least a bit, but yian kut-kus have large, sensitive ears. It will make them angry, though."

"Which could be useful on its own," I said.

"Possibly," he replied. "Flash bombs work too. They're also effective on most monsters. Almost always worth having. Dung bombs are also widely useful, if you need to escape."

"Sonic bombs and flash bombs are fine, but I'll pass on the balls of shit," Shadow Stalker said, picking out a handful of the white and yellow spheres and stowing them in the pouches attached to her bodysuit.

"What are the pink ones?" I asked, flicking one of them around, setting it to rolling in place in the carton.

"Paint bombs," Rifle said. "They're for tracking. They release a sticky dye that evaporates over time. It lingers in the air and leaves a trail, so you can usually follow a monster for a few hours after hitting it with one."

"Do we need them?"

"Probably not," he said. "Between the two of us we should be able to track a two-ton flying monster easily enough."

"Only if I don't find it first," Shadow Stalker said, standing up and joining Rifle at the cabinet. "Need I remind you who found more mushrooms, last time?"

"Point," Rifle said, holding something out to her. "Look at this."

I stood up and joined them in time to see Shadow Stalker poking around inside an open first aid kit. It was a soft-bodied one, the exterior made of rough fabric with a zipper running around the outside, and for the most part the contents look normal. Not that I knew the first thing about first aid.

"What am I looking for here?" she asked.

"The white roll of pills, there," Rifle said, pointing.

"Desoxyn?" she asked, lifting up the little tube and reading the label.

"Wait, they're giving us meth!?" Rune asked, turning away from the sink. "Seriously?"

"A pretty strong prescription, too," Rifle said. "Makes sense, if you think about it. It's an appetite suppressant and a strong stimulant. They used to give it to soldiers, once upon a time. It let them fight for days on end, without food or sleep, until they crashed. That's not all, though. There's a lot of prescription drugs here, and not the weak kind. Suture gun, too, plus some skin glue, chemical washes, and a cauterization kit. And that's just what I recognized immediately."

"Shit," Shadow Stalker said, dropping the tube into the kit and handing it back to him. "Kinda puts things in perspective a bit, if they're giving us this kind of stuff."

"Should we bring it along?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Rifle said, zipping the kit back up. "Two kits, if we can find the space, for redundancy."

"I can carry one easy enough," I said.

"I'll take one too," Rune said. "Water bottles are filled, by the way."

Conversation lapsed as we sorted out who should carry what. We ended up spreading more bombs between us, along with the water bottles, some rations, and the first aid kits. The bigger or more exotic things we left behind, either due to lack of space or because nobody knew how to use them.

We moved out, opening the door on the far end of the room and heading through the portal. As usual, the modern materials gave way to a hallway made of stone and wood, unlit except by the lights that shone from the Earth Bet side. We passed a door with a sign on it that looked like an old-time zeppelin with the label 'airship landing', then emerged into a little alcove with a single cart-loading bay and some stairs that led down into waving grasslands.

"This way," Rifle said, trotting down the steps. "The mission brief said that the monster had been sighted close by, two days ago. Too near the station for comfort. They're worried about attacks on the transport carts."

"Okay, just putting this out there, but was I the only one that saw the door labeled 'airship landing'?" I asked, glancing between the others.

"I didn't want to say, but yeah, what's with that?" Rune asked. I heard a click from behind Shadow Stalker's mask, as if she'd closed her mouth with some force.

"Jesus," Rifle said, running a hand through his hair. "Did none of you read the handbooks they sent us?"

"Do we really need to answer that?" I asked. "There's a reason I fingered you for team leader. You know that, right?"

"Fine," he said, though he sounded less than upset. "Better that somebody does the job, at least." He took a quick breath. "Alright, for most missions, teams travel by cart. Here, most are pulled by aptonoth, but some places do things differently, since aptonoth don't thrive in every environment the portals lead to. Some missions, like this one, are close enough that we can walk. Some are farther out, too far for carts to reach, or in especially dangerous or difficult to traverse areas. For those, the Protectorate maintains a small number of airships made of local materials."

"So the monsters ignore them," Rune guessed.

"Correct," he said. "Even aggressive or territorial monsters will ignore an airship unless the crew is visible. Not worth eating, not an obvious rival, not worth their attention. There aren't many, though, so they go to high priority missions or the more elite teams."

"Boring," Shadow Stalker said. "If we're gonna play schoolhouse the entire way, let's split up. Hunter, you up for some forward scouting?"

"Wait," Rifle said. "If I'm team leader, then I say we stay together. Work in the standard formation, close enough for group support."

"Look, I never agreed to that team leader shit," Shadow Stalker said. "And I didn't ask you for permission. Hunter, wanna go ahead?"

"Yeah," I said, then held a hand up as Rifle opened his mouth. "Hear me out. I think it's a good idea. Our team clearly isn't set up to use the standard formation very well. We've got two slower people, with a long-ranged focus, and two faster people, with a close-range focus. Besides, you can spot things from really far off, right?"

"I can," he said. "My vision actually gets better the longer the range, though air distortion and the horizon become issues."

"Right. I've got good senses too, plus Shadow Stalker's obviously our best scout. Seems like two teams of two would be the better idea here. You guys move slow," I said, gesturing to Rune and Rifle, then pointing my thumb at my chest. "We move fast, circle around, or run sweeps across your line of advance."

"It's a lot more dangerous," he pointed out. "Last time we split up, we got ambushed, and one of us got hurt."

"No doubt," I said. "So we stay in sight of each other, communicate with hand signals between you and me. Besides, if we get attacked, it isn't like you'll have trouble providing us support at range."

"It would be easier, actually," he admitted.

"Yeah, I won't complain about keeping some distance between me and the next wyvern that wants to butt-fuck me," Rune added.

"No risk, no reward," I said, spreading my arms.

"Personally, I'd say that the less risk, the more likely you are to be rewarded," Rifle said. "But fine. You've made your point. For a two-star hunt, we can try it your way."

Shadow Stalker flared her cloak and jumped away, shifting to her shadow form. I gave Rifle a mock salute, then sprinted off after her.

At the pace she set, I had to content myself to following her lead and doing the best I could to scan the area for threats. It was my third time trekking through this part of Pangaea, and I was becoming familiar with it, getting a sense of how things worked. The shape of the hills, the type of grass and plant life, they indicated things, like where the various streams and pools lay. Smaller creatures and some monsters were common, though the aggressive ones tended to stay in the forests.

I saw aptonoth and kelbi again. The weird dinosaurs and green deer seemed to be the most common herbivores in the area, though I also saw some camouflaged pigs that looked kind of fuzzy. I did spot the occasional velociprey, and we gave those a wide berth.

We started out doing a sweep around Rifle and Rune, four or five hundred feet out, and Shadow Stalker paid special attention to their back-trail. Then we did a sweep upwind, stopping on every rise to survey the area around us. I signaled to Rifle every time, using a mirror from my pouch to let him know where we were.

"I wish I knew Morse Code," I said, the second or third time. "Of course, it wouldn't help unless Rifle knows it too."

Shadow Stalker ignored me, continuing the sweep.

We kept searching like that for a few hours, until the sun crested the sky, ending up almost directly above us. The temperature didn't change much, probably due to all the water and plantlife in the area.

But hot or cold, we'd been moving fast for a long time, and eventually Shadow Stalker made her way over to me. She didn't look any worse for wear, though she was breathing a bit hard. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Stop for lunch?" she asked.

"Marry me," I said.

She let out a quick laugh, the sound sudden, involuntary, then planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Do you think with anything but your stomach?" she asked.

"It's mostly that general region of the body," I admitted. "So, should we signal the others?"

"Suppose we should," she said, then gestured to a hill we'd just passed. "There?"

"Sure," I said. I jogged up the hill until I got in sight of Rune and Rifle, and flashed them a quick signal with my mirror. Rifle stopped, giving me an exaggerated shrug. A question if we'd found anything, I figured. I replied by raising my hand to my face and miming a bite, then rubbing my belly. He paused for a moment, then nodded. I gave him a thumb's up, and he responded by opening and closing his hand three times.

"Think that means he wants us to take fifteen minutes to eat?" I asked, turning to look at Shadow Stalker.

"Don't ask me, I can't see what the hell he's doing at that distance," she said. I mimed the motion at her, opening and closing my hand three times. "Oh," she said. "Probably."

"Cool," I said, glancing around. I found a spot where the grass wasn't as thick, then stomped around until I'd made a flat area big enough for the two of us to sit down. "Shame we didn't bring a picnic basket."

"Of course, because a monster-infested wilderness is the perfect place to spread out a blanket and eat cookies and whatever," she replied, sinking to the ground and pulling out her water bottle. She turned away from me and lifted her mask off her face a bit to take a drink, then lowered it again. "Great idea, Hunter."

"Meh," I said, sitting down beside her. "I'd do it just to say I had. 'Oh yes, we were in the forest and hills the other day'," I continued, faking a fancy accent and fluttering my hands around. "'lovely place, lovely place. Had a just _darling_ picnic, don't you know?'"

She stopped in the middle of taking another drink, sputtering. Water dribbled down her chin onto the grass. "Okay," she choked, "you don't get to do accents anymore."

"But I'm so good at them," I protested.

"Nope," she said, knocking the water bottle against my helmet. "Vetoed. Also, you suck at them, and you'd probably try to do it when we were fighting a monster."

I rubbed my chin for a moment, frowning upward in thought, and she leaned back and kicked me in the knee, hard enough that I had to catch myself with a hand to keep from falling over.

"No accents," she said.

"Fine," said. "For now."

"Forever," she said.

"You can't tell me what to do," I told her. "You're not my _real_ dad."

She froze in the middle of winding up for another kick, then crossed her legs and settled her cloak around her. She fished a ration pack out of a pouch, opening it with a crinkling sound before lifting her mask to take a bite, her face hidden in her hood.

"Ah," I said. "Hit a nerve? Something about your-"

"Drop it, Hunter," she said, her voice harsh.

I shrugged. "Whatever it is, I'll just point out that I almost certainly wouldn't care."

She didn't reply, and I shrugged again.

 _Not my circus, not my monkeys_.

I fished out my own ration pack, tearing it open and starting in on it. The taste wasn't the best, and it was pretty dry, but I wasn't about to complain. I supplemented it with a few strips of jerky and a couple swigs from my water bottle, then opened another ration and started on that. I finished before Shadow Stalker had gotten all the way through her first bar, then stood up.

"Think I'll take a quick walk," I said, "keep an eye open."

"Sure," she said.

I walked around the little ad-hoc camp site, brushing aside the waist-high grass and looking around. I half expected to see the yian kut-ku pop out from somewhere, but nothing happened. A few minutes later Shadow Stalker joined me, and I signaled to Rifle that we were ready to go. He signaled back, and we set off.

This time, Shadow Stalker set a more sedate pace, and we moved together, circling around the others as they took their own looping course through the grasslands. Rifle led Rune in short arcs, from hilltop to hilltop, letting him get a good long-ranged view of the surroundings, while Shadow Stalker and I moved thought the valleys, performing a more in-depth search.

"So, hey," Shadow Stalker said after a while. "Mind if I ask a question?"

"Go for it," I said.

"Back at the station, I had a thought," she said.

"Oh?" I asked. Not the direction I'd been expecting the conversation to go.

"Yeah," she said. "So, we're a bunch of villains and vigilantes, right? In on probation?"

"Yeah," I said.

"You'd think they'd have more worries about fast-tracking us than just whether we're good enough to hunt on our own, right?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't know," I said. "I've never been part of a group like this before."

"I kind of have, in a different way," she said. "But it stands to reason, doesn't it? That they'd want to know if we were going to just take a bunch of stuff and then fuck off, or something?"

"I really don't know," I said. "But I can see it, I guess. What's your point?"

"No real point," she said. "Just that, you know, maybe things are worse than they seem. This is a pilot project, and they're not taking it slow. More like tossing us in the deep end of the pool."

"That a problem for you?" I asked.

She snorted at that. "Fuck no," she said. "The opposite. It's a good opportunity to show what we can do. It just struck me as interesting. Thought I'd share."

"Well, thanks," I said.

Away from us, on a hilltop a few hundred feet away, a light flashed. Rifle, signaling me with a mirror of his own. I raised my hand toward him in acknowledgment, and he pointed off ahead of his line of advance. I followed his finger, but whatever he had found, it was out of our line of sight.

"What's up?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Dunno," I said. "Let's find out."

We trotted up a hill, side by side. When we neared the top, Shadow Stalker shifted form, ghosting up ahead of me and lying flat on the crest. I followed her, crouching down as I went to stay out of sight, then crawling, and finally shimmying along on my stomach to come up beside her.

Ahead of us, still far enough away to appear small, a wyvern was standing in a pool of water with its head down, drinking. Every few seconds it would stand up tall, wide flaps of scaled skin folding out from its head, and look around, scanning for danger. Then it would lower its huge, blunt beak back to the water.

"Well," I whispered, despite the distance. "Guess we found our target."


	7. Slay the Great Kut-Ku!

**Chapter Seven: Slay the Great Kut-Ku!**

"God, that thing looks goofy."

Shadow Stalker shook her head as she backed down the hill, moving carefully so that nothing gave her presence away. No grass waved, no branch snapped.

I stayed where I was, examining the kut-ku. I had to admit, I could see her point. The thing was mostly shades of red, which made the banded plates of its armor even more lobster-like, though its beak, claws, and ears all shaded to a light yellow. The wing membranes were blue, and I thought I could see some more blue around its tiny little pinprick eyes, but the distance was too long to be sure. But even apart from the colors, it really did look more goofy than the yian garuga had. Part of that might have been that it was more front-heavy. Its tail was shorter, and it lacked the cluster of spikes at the end, leaving it looking much more like a regular reptile's tail. The beak was thick and blunt, though it still had the jagged underbite. That, along with the huge ears that unfolded every time it looked around, made the head look bigger than it was, and made the already thin neck seem scrawny.

I finished my observation and shimmied down the hill after Shadow Stalker.

"Pretty goofy looking, yeah," I agreed, once I was out of its direct line of sight.

"So fill me in," she said. "How does it fight?"

"If it's anything like its cousin, it'll probably rush us," I said. "It'll be clumsy, though. Fast, but clumsy. But fast. Don't try to out-distance it, but evading isn't hard."

"Fireballs?"

"When it's angry or frustrated," I said. "They seemed to be a backup plan, rather than the go-to."

"Alright, easy enough," she said. I could hear some tension in her voice, but without being able to see her face I couldn't tell if it was fear or anticipation, and she didn't give any other signs. She was totally still, no fidgeting or anything. "How should we do this? Signal the others, then head in? Try to sneak around?"

"Um..." I said, thinking. "Monsters are supposed to hate people, or at least they're really aggressive toward us. We could lure it into a trap, except I don't know how much good that would do, or if we've got enough time to set something up while it's drinking."

"Probably not," she said.

I took a moment and looked toward the hill where Rifle and Rune were set up. Rifle had his gun out, and he was lying prone, sighting along it. Rune was a bit farther back, below the crest, wandering around and writing her sigils on anything big enough. She already had a dozen things floating around her. Mid-sized rocks for the most part.

I waved, and Rifle glanced my way, making a few hand gestures that I didn't understand. I took out my sword and miming running toward the monster, stabbing. He responded with an incredulous look and a rapid shake of his head.

"Okay, we're going in," I said, turning to Shadow Stalker. "Straight rush, no fancy stuff."

"That's retarded," she said, then gestured toward the monster. "After you."

I gave her a quick salute with my sword, then checked my shield, where it was strapped to the opposite forearm. It was solidly in place. I nodded, a sharp motion, and swallowed. My heartbeat was already speeding up, and I could feel a tingling in my fingers and toes.

"Alright," I said, standing up and walking toward the monster, accelerating even though it was still hundreds of feet away. "Let's do this!"

Off to the side, Rifle slapped a hand against his forehead, then went back to sighting down the barrel of his shotgun. He said something, and Rune's head snapped around. She abandoned her work and crawled up behind him, her empowered objects floating near her.

"Looks like backup's sorted," I said, glancing at Shadow Stalker as I ran. She didn't reply, ghosting along in her shadow state, but she did give me a thumb's up.

We'd started a good distance away, and the nature of the terrain meant that the wyvern wasn't in sight the entire time. It would have been possible to make use of the dips and valleys to stay low and sneak up, possibly with Rifle providing directions. There was a simple reason I didn't do it, though.

I didn't want to.

Last time, the yian garuga had kicked out ass, and if this wasn't quite the same as a chance at revenge, it was close enough for me.

The kut-ku noticed us as we came down the final hill, the one that led to the watering hole it was using. It hopped in place, once, spreading its wings and raising its head up high, beak gaping and ears extending to their full height, like a thin, scaly frill attached to the back of its head.

It made a noise halfway been a squawk and a caw, clawing at the ground, splashing water behind it. It was loud, but not intolerably so.

"Come and get us!" I shouted back at it, brandishing my sword.

Whether it was the taunt, or just the fact that we were closing in despite the obvious threat display, it charged. Its legs were skinny, but the claws on its feet were still menacing, and it advanced just as fast as I'd been predicting. As I'd also predicted, it was clumsy, but with the mass and speed it had that wasn't really a problem for it.

There was a bright flash, and a moment later I head the flat crack of a gunshot, echoing off the nearby hills. I blinked the light away, but the monster didn't seem to have it as easy. I figured out what had happened just as it plowed into the ground beak-first, tearing up the grass. Rifle's support. A flash-bang launched from his shotgun.

I closed the last thirty feet to the monster in a flat-out sprint, leaping up and delivering an overhead slash to it just behind the beak, aiming for its eye. My sword bit through scales, the jagged, curved edge of what had once been a monster's crest drawing blood from the kut ku's face. I missed the eye, though. Too small a target, with thick ridges of horn or bone protecting it.

Dazed and possibly blind, the monster still reacted to the attack. It surged to its feet and stormed in a circle, its beak, wings, and tail flailing around, stomping and tearing at the grass with its feet. I ducked, bringing up my shield in time to intercept the swinging tail – the impact was still enough to make me grit my teeth – then dived away, rolling to avoid the claws.

It cawed again, a hoarse, angry sound, very much like the yian garuga's roar but without the depth and resonance that had made it so painful. I rolled over, keeping ahead of it, and slashed out with my sword, but the scales on the leg were too hard, and I couldn't get any penetration.

Black streaks came in over my prone form, sinking inches-deep into the solid plates of the kut-ku's back, and it cried out again. It didn't recoil, though. Still blind, it charged , wings flapping, beak gaping, and the tip of a thick, red tongue protruding just enough to see, headed straight in the direction the attack had come from.

Which meant, among other things, that it was coming straight for me.

I curled up, covering myself with my shield as best I could while the monster trampled over me, but thankfully the claws missed me, shredding the ground ahead and behind me instead. Shadow Stalker, for her part, entered her breaker state and ghosted away, letting the kut ku vent its anger on nature rather than her.

I sprang up and started sprinting just in time to see Rifle lay down a barrage of fire from his hilltop. He worked the action of his gun smoothly, pumping, firing, and loading new cartridges so quickly that I could barely distinguish what he was doing, even with my enhanced senses.

The kut-ku reeled under his fire, a variety of shells hitting it one after another, targeting its face, neck, and wings. I couldn't make out most of what happened, but by the time I closed in and he stopped shooting, fire was clinging to its beak and one of its wings, and it dripped blood from dozens of tiny cuts and a handful of bigger ones.

I didn't jump this time. I came in low, swinging upward at the underside of the tail. If the information on the yian garuga held true for the kut ku, it would be at least slightly vulnerable there.

Either it wasn't, or my swing just wasn't strong enough, because my blade glanced off just like it had against the legs, barely biting in.

The kut ku spun around, snapping at me with its beak. It didn't come close, still reeling and having trouble seeing. I countered its clumsy attempts, going for the throat, behind the beak, and the ears, but I had little more luck there than I had before.

"Shit!" I swore, backpedaling as it flapped its wings, leaping backward and lifting off, gaining distance. The wind from its takeoff was enough to send me to the ground, and I did my best to roll with it, crushing the grass and coming up wet and muddy, but unharmed.

I shook my arms, clearing the mud as best I could. Then my eyes widened and I dived to the side just in time to avoid a fireball spat in my direction. I slid on my stomach, grinding more mud into the rings of my armor, and staggered to my feet, side-stepping carefully to avoid another attack.

"This thing's tough," I said, raising my voice enough that Shadow Stalker could hear me as she circled around, looking for another opening. "I think our intel was off."

She shifted out of her shadow state for a moment. "I think you're right," she said. "Head's tough, not like we were told." I saw a few bolts sticking out there, likely failed attempts to shoot the eyes, though I wasn't sure when she'd managed that. "Try somewhere else?"

I paused, watching the monster as it lowered its head, clawing at the ground. Getting ready to charge. "Tried the face, neck, tail, wings, and legs," I said, speeding up as I circled around it. "No luck."

It was clumsy, so lateral movement worked well against it. As I'd hoped, it charged, and I turned, sprinting sideways, evading it. Its charge didn't lead to a fall this time. It caught itself, spun around, coming back for another charge.

"Shit!" I swore, turning on my heel, moving to get out of the way. It stopped close by, digging its claws into the ground and fanning its wings for balance, and its head darted down at me, trying to crush me with its beak.

I threw myself backward, avoiding the first strike, but it kept coming. The yian garuga had done something similar, and I'd ended up with broken ribs. I parried the second strike with my shield, but the force of the blow send me skidding. I went down on one knee, shield above me, braced with my sword arm, ready for the followup.

It didn't come, thanks to Rune. Her support arrived in the form of a rock falling from above, hitting the monster right behind the ear and sending it face first into the ground. It squawked indignantly, its breath sending up a spray of mud and water, and I took the opportunity to scramble away, circling around to its side.

Despite being hit by a fifty pound rock going at what had to be close to terminal velocity, the monster got up without issue, turning its head in all directions, searching. It was clearly fully recovered from the flash-bang.

"Hunter!" Shadow Stalker called. "Try the stomach! Scales look thinner there, and its been trying to protect it!"

"May as well," I muttered, closing in. The hits to my shield had left my arm numb, but I was recovering fast. A few bites to eat would have helped even more, but I figured I was good to get in close again.

I feinted up at its head, then side-stepped a rake of the claws, ducked under a brutal peck of the beak, and dropped to my knees to get underneath it, lashing upward with my sword, shield held to protect me from a stomp or a kick.

Shadow Stalker had been right. My blade bit in deeper than before, parting scales and sliding between armor plates, showering me with spatters of blood. In just a few seconds I'd inflicted more damage than even Rifle's barrage had.

Of course, the monster wasn't about to ignore that, but its response wasn't what I'd expected. It shrieked of course, and stomped down at me, trying to crush me or slice me open, but my shield was in place and I took the hits without much difficulty. That much I'd planned for. What it did next, though, I hadn't. It flared its wings, then beat down hard. The wind send me tumbling, and the monster rose up startlingly fast. Just a few wing-beats saw it going almost fifty feet straight up.

"No way," I said. "No way that's possible."

Possible or not though, it was happening. Once it was in the air, the kut-ku let out a cry, then beat its wings harder, going into a dive for a moment before swooping in a circle and heading away at speed. A few of Rune's rocks floated in its direction, but they moved too sluggishly to catch up.

"Did it just... run away?" Shadow Stalker asked, coming out of her shadow state beside me, still staring up at the receding form of the monster.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess it did."

"I don't know whether to be satisfied or pissed off," she said.

"Go with pissed off," I said, climbing to my feet and trying to shake off the mud that clung to me. "Definitely pissed off."

"We have to follow it," she pointed out. "No kill, no bounty. We're not here to just chase it away."

"I know," I said, holding my sword up to inspect it. "Shit. Blunted the edge."

"Well duh," Shadow Stalker said. "Hard as you swing that thing, I'm surprised it didn't break."

"Guess I don't know my own strength," I said, pulling a sharpening block out a pouch and getting to work. "Wish I'd noticed sooner, though. I could have done some real damage at the end there."

She scoffed. "Don't pull your arm out of your socket trying to pat yourself on the back."

"No promises," I said, holding the edge up to my eyes, turning it around, checking for damage. The monster-crest blade had held up surprisingly well, considering that I'd been smashing it against the unyielding scales of a wyvern, and it had taken an edge again with ease. Part of my power, maybe? How I'd made it? I didn't know, but I filed the information away for the future.

"Hey!" Rifle called, trotting toward us, his shotgun held to his chest, eyes tracking around the area. "Let's move!"

Behind him, Rune floated on top of another, larger rock, crouched down with her robe pooled around her, hands gripping the edge of her ride for balance.

I glanced to Shadow Stalker, but she was already gone, perfectly silent, ghosting ahead of the two of them in her breaker state.

"Well," I said to myself. "No point being left behind."

I caught up with Rifle in seconds and fell in, loping along beside him. He navigated the terrain well, as I'd seen before. Not as well as Shadow Stalker, even before taking her power into account, but he'd probably be better than me if I didn't have the strength and stamina to ignore little concerns like rolling hills or shallow rivers.

"Why didn't you keep up the attack?" I asked him as we ran. "A bit more like that and we might have had it."

"Can't," he said between measured breaths. "I only carry fifty shells most times."

"Why not more?" I asked.

He shot me an annoyed frown before turning back to his survey of the sky, tracking the monster as it flew away from us. "Not everyone is a brute," he said. "Some of us have to consider our kit more carefully."

"I could have carried some," I said. "Or Rune could have."

"Not the time," he snapped. "You idiots were the ones that wanted to go in fast."

"That's fair," I said. "Well, whistle if you want my attention."

He gave me a quizzical look, but I was already off, accelerating into a run that was just shy of a sprint. I would have followed Shadow Stalker, but she was already out of sight, so I settled for moving as quickly as I could after the monster and assumed she was doing the same.

The yian kut-ku wasn't as fast as the yian garuga had been, but in a lot of ways that didn't matter. It was airborne, moving in a straight line toward its goal, and we had to meander around the terrain as we tried to keep up. Keeping up, of course, was a relative term. It outpaced us basically without effort. It wasn't as fast as a plane, or even as fast as a car on the freeway, but it was still far, far faster than we were, and if it had just gone in a straight line until nightfall there wasn't anything we could have done.

Luckily it didn't. Likely because, despite being an eight-foot-tall, two-ton monster, it was still pretty low on the foot chain. I knew from close to personal experience that there was at least one rathalos in the general area, and from what I'd read one of them would make an easy meal out of our target.

Unluckily, when it chose to land it wasn't in another piece of easily accessible grassland. When it finally circled down out of the sky, it did it by flapping its way down into the canopy of a forest. Not near the edge, either. It came down – as best as I could see with the way the hills and cliffs bounded the miniature sea of trees – pretty much in the middle.

It took another five minutes of running to reach the edge of the forest, and I came to stop to find Shadow Stalker already there, pacing back and forth and peering into the shadow of the trees.

I joined her, but she didn't seem to be in a mood to talk, and we waited in silence for another five or ten minutes until the others caught up. Rune was still on her rock, skimming close to the ground, and Rifle was sharing it with her. I wanted to say they were moving slowly, but it was probably still a faster pace than either could have maintained on the ground.

"So," Shadow Stalker said, rounding on them. "We don't need paint bombs, huh? Enhanced senses should be enough to keep up?"

"It was a bad call," Rifle said, hopping down off the rock and walking over to us. "I'll cop to that, and remember it for next time. For now, let's get moving."

"We have a plan? Or are we just gonna bumble around the forest like..." Shadow Stalker paused, snapping her fingers.

"Retards?" I suggested. "Idiots? Stupid..." I paused myself. "Bears? They shit in the woods, I'm told."

"Whatever," she said. "Go with retards."

"I've got a good sense of range and position. I know where the target landed," Rifle said, pointing into the forest. "Just under three quarters of a mile that way. I'm not as good at navigation, though. At least not when distances are as short as they will be in there."

"Good enough," Shadow Stalker said. "I've got this. Just follow my lead." She glanced toward Rune. "You gonna be able to keep up on that, little miss Hitler Youth?"

"Fuck you," Rune said, sneering. "I'll be fine. Just do your job, Shad-"

"Stop!" Rifle said, sweeping his arm down between the two of them. "Not the time. Shadow Stalker, go. Rune, with me. Hunter, stay close. There's not enough space to spread out and keep in contact."

Shadow Stalker stared at Rune for a moment, then turned and stalked into the forest. She pulled a thin tube from a pouch at her waist, then used a thumb to flick off the cap. A stuttering stream of sparks sprayed out, and she went into her shadow state, disappearing into the gloom, only the thin trail of light giving away her position.

The rest of us set off after her, and I limited myself to the pace Rifle set. Rune, indeed, didn't have trouble navigating her rock between the trees, though she did spend the time repeatedly reapplying her power, shuffling around and tracing patterns on it. Each time, it gained a little burst of speed, before gradually slowing down again.

"So, what were you gonna call her?" I asked, after a few minutes.

"Why?" Rune asked. "Gonna jump in to defend your girlfriend?"

"Nah" I said. "I'm just curious. I've never been good at stopping halfway, or leaving things alone."

Rune looked at me for a moment, her lips pursed, her hair and hood hiding the rest of her face. "Whatever, it was lame," she said eventually. "Just forget it."

I shrugged. "Fine," I said. "So, why'd you drop the rock earlier, rather than use you power to smash it into the monster?"

"Works better than way," she said, moving over to trace another rune on her mount. "Unless I spend the time to really cover something, the speed's never great, and the more runes I put on something, the faster they fade. It's easier to get a few runes on a lot of things, then move a bunch of them into position and drop 'em. Squash the enemy."

"Fair enough," I said. "Why'd you only drop one, then?"

"Didn't get them into position quick enough," she said, her voice a little bitter. "Plus, once I drop something, that's it. No control. Didn't want to hit you." She paused for a moment. "Wouldn't have minded hitting the bitch, though."

"Enough," Rifle said. "Snipe at each other on your own time, but getting at each others' throats on a mission just leads to disaster. Don't do it. Period."

"Whatever," Rune said again. Her voice was defiant, but her shoulders slumped.

We continued in silence after that, and I kept my eyes open, but I didn't expect any trouble. The kut-ku wouldn't have landed here if there'd been anything threatening to it in the area, and Shadow Stalker effortlessly led us past any smaller monsters.

My eyes caught on something for a moment, and I stopped, then bent down. A bright blue mushroom was growing in the shadow of a tree. I reached out to pluck it, then continued on.

"What's that?" Rifle asked.

I held the mushroom out toward him. "Dunno, just caught my eye. I was thinking about the teleport bomb that Gunner made, I guess."

Rifle eyed me. "That's a different species, unless I remember wrong."

"Nah, you're right," I said. "Like I said, it caught my eye."

"That's..." he said, looking closer. "cantharellus cibarius-caeruleum. I think. Similar to chanterelle mushrooms on Earth. Edible, but with some unusual chemical-concentrating properties. Fine to eat on its own, but if you ingest anything toxic with it, it'll make the effects worse."

"Huh," I said. "Good to know."

"Your power telling you anything about it?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said. "It's pretty squirrelly unless I- Actually, did I tell you this already?"

"You did not," he said. "We never really sat down to discuss powers."

"Must have been someone else, then," I said.

I spent the next few minutes telling Rifle the specifics of my tinker power. He listened, nodding occasionally, though most of his attention was clearly on the forest around us.

Eventually we neared the spot he'd indicated, and our pace slowed. Shadow Stalker stayed closer, hiding the sparkler with her cloak, only revealing it in quick flashes if we started to drift off course. Eventually she stopped, signaling us with a few brief glimpses of the sparks, and we crept forward, Rune lowering her rock to nearly scrape the forest floor.

When we caught up with her we found ourselves in a small clearing, with sun streaming down from a gap in the canopy. Leaves and broken branches littered the area, indicating that the gap was newly-made, or at least newly-used. There were a few tracks, too, pressed deep into the soft earth, leading to a rock face on the edge of the clearing.

Or more accurately, to a hole in said rock face. A cave, small enough that the kut-ku had probably had to crouch down to enter.

"A den?" I said. "A nest? What's it called, when the thing's a weird monster-bird-wyvern?"

"Doesn't matter," Rifle said.

"Which means he doesn't know," Shadow Stalker whispered, joining us. "What?" she asked, when Rifle gave her a look. "If you knew, you'd totally have told us."

"Strong point," I said.

Rifle reached up to run a hand through his hair. "We need a plan," he said. "Going after a wounded animal in its lair is dangerous, and we won't be able to give you long-ranged support this time."

"Fuck that," Shadow Stalker said. "We've got its number. We go in-"

"If it's there," I said. "Been a while now, and I can't smell any blood."

She turned to me, and I tapped my nose through my mask. "Enhanced smell."

"We go in," she said. "If it's there, we kick its ass. You two squishies can stay out here if you want, play backstop if it runs again."

"No," Rifle said. "We'll come with you."

"That easy?" I asked.

"Just go," he said, glancing down at his gun. He did something to the bottom and pulled out a number of shells, slotted them into his bandolier, then loaded others.

We went. Inside, the cave was bigger than I'd expected, spacious enough that even the yian garuga would have fit with no trouble, assuming it could get through the entrance. It was also dark, but my vision adapted easily, and even before that I could hear the monster's breathing. Not as rough or powerful as I would have expected for a creature of its size, but it still had a presence.

The kut ku was sleeping, wounds still evident, but not bleeding, already partly healed. It was curled up, wings and legs tight to its body, head tucked in next to its belly. It kicked in its sleep, and clicked its beak. I froze, but it settled back down, and I continued my advance.

I hadn't expected it to be asleep, and that was both a dilemma and an opportunity. An opportunity because we could set up something big. A dilemma because nothing we had on us was big enough to put it down in one go.

Of everything we had, Rune was the biggest gun. I turned around and gestured to her, pointing at her rock, then the roof of the cave. She glanced to Rifle, and he nodded. Then she hopped off the rock, her landing making a rustling sound in the dry grass and branches that littered the floor of the cave, and her rock moved forward without her.

It was definitely big. Half a ton, if I had to guess, or more. It hovered toward the ceiling, a dozen feet off the ground, and moved into place above the monster.

Rune gestured sharply, and the rock fell. It hit the kut ku with a crunching sound, wing bones breaking, and the monster shrieked, only to be hit in the face with another flash-bang from Rifle, followed up by Shadow Stalker tossing a few yellow flash bombs of her own. They went off, setting the wyvern to flailing, tail and legs lashing out. I rushed in again, going for the underbelly.

Even having its bones broken didn't slow it down, and it shrugged off the rock with ease, scrambling upright and spinning around, tiny eyes clenched shut and beak snapping, searching for the source of its pain.

If I wasn't the source, I quickly added to it, pushing in under it and cutting away, opening gashes in its stomach, deeper this time. Deep enough that I thought, with a bit more, we might kill it.

Apparently it thought so too, because it didn't try to stomp me or peck at me this time. It backpedaled frantically, and its head shot down, spewing up a fireball right between its feet.

There was no time to dodge. I blocked the impact of it with my shield, but burning fluid sprayed down around it, coating my glove and sleeve with slick flame, washing down onto my chest and shoulder.

I did the only thing I could. I stopped, dropped, and rolled, sword and shield clutched close to my body, trailing fire along the floor of the cave, fighting back a scream as the pain burrowed through my armor and into my flesh.

My head spinning, awash in adrenaline, one thought flashed through my mind. How had Wingtip shrugged this off so quickly?

As I rolled, I got flashes of the fight. Everything happened fast. Shadow Stalker threw another bomb, this one white, and a ringing note hammered through the cave for an instant, like a split-second clip of someone hitting a tuning fork, turned up to eleven-thousand. The kut-ku reacted more strongly than it had to my attack on its vitals, rearing back and going stock-stiff, dazed.

Rifle and Shadow Stalker both followed up on the opening, letting loose as many shots as they could, while Rune rushed over to me, collapsing down and smothering the fire with her robe, part of the hem held in both hands, beating at me.

The kut-ku recovered before she finished, letting out its own shriek of anger, beak dripping with fire that sputtered and sizzled as it hit the dry foliage of its nest.

It rushed us, and I reacted as quickly as I could, shoving Rune away hard, then covering myself with my shield. This wasn't like before, though. The monster's feet gouged chunks out of the cave floor as it came, its wings spread, half-stumbling with the speed.

At the last second before impact, I realized that – excepting a bit in the middle – this was just what had happened to Wings. Fireball, followed by bulldozing rush.

Then it hit me, and the force knocked the wind out of me, sent me flying.

For the second time in under a minute, I spun around and around, through the air this time, fast enough that everything blurred. Then there was a crashing sound, and I came down on something warm, hard, and _moving_.

My shield-hand darted out, trying to get a grip on something, and the ground heaved beneath me. Except it wasn't the ground. I'd come down on top of the kut ku, right after it had smashed into the wall of its own cave.

I got a grip for a moment, but then the wings flapped as it half-stood, half-flew upright, and I was tossed off. I swung my sword as I fell, but it glanced off the armor on the front of the wing.

Another sonic bomb went off right beside me, making my ears ring, but the kut-ku ignored it, too furious to register the pain. It started forward, kicking at the ground, gaining speed and charging right at Rifle, but its head was raised this time, and it spat a fireball with each step, the sticky, guttering balls of chemical spit hitting the ground with dull detonations, not targeted but definitely panic-inducing.

I climbed to my feet as quickly as I could, but my balance was still off, and I wasn't thinking well. I stumbled a bit, then ran after the monster, even though I knew I'd never get to it before it hit Rifle, or be able to stop it even if I did catch up.

Rifle glanced to the side for an instant, but didn't dodge, then focused on the kut-ku and rapid-fired more than half a dozen shots from his shotgun at the charging monster, each impacting around the eyes, even as the head flew crazily back and forth, spewing fire. If any actually hit an eye, though, I couldn't tell.

Then Rune's rock flew into view. It didn't move quickly, but it didn't need to. The kut-ku was furious, moving with power and speed, but very little control, and the rock weighed a good portion of what it did. It impacted the monster's side, sending it off-balance, and it passed Rifle by, missing him by a wide margin.

It didn't stop, though. It smashed into the cave wall and recoiled, spinning around and starting its rush again, still dousing the ground around it with bursting balls of fire.

"It's out of control!" Rifle yelled. "Hit it!"

He suited actions to words, reloading and unloading on it again, but I could already tell his shots weren't doing enough damage. They hit hard, and drew blood, but even slugs that would have taken down a bear weren't even slowing the wyvern down. Maybe if we'd had more time, or he'd had more ammo, but we didn't have either.

The kut-ku smashed into the wall again, then braced one clawed foot on the rock and kicked off, flapping for a moment to spin itself around, raising a wall of dust and fanning the flames even higher. It gave off its ragged, croaking shriek again, the fire in its mouth bubbling up and glowing brighter. Then it rushed, once again heading straight at Rifle.

He made a 'tsk' sound, lowering his gun, glancing around without any apparent haste, looking for a way out.

Rune had given it to him last time. This time it was me.

I intercepted the monster, meeting its rush with my blade held in both hands. Right hand on the grip, left hand on the pommel, bracing, pushing it in as hard as I could. With its head held up, spitting fire, its belly was exposed, and my blade sank in right up to the guard.

It staggered, but it didn't stop, and the force of its charge was bone breaking. It sent me flying again, except this time I lost my grip on my sword.

I spun for a moment, hit the ground, bounced, and came to a sudden, unexpected stop.

I coughed, something wet hitting the inside of my mask, and looked up. I was leaning up against Shadow Stalker, and she had an arm around my shoulder. We were both on the ground, and I could only imagine that she'd fallen while catching me. Her other arm, the one not around me, was clasped to her chest.

"Got you-" I stopped, coughing.

"Yeah, got me too," she grit out. I hadn't seen her take the hit, but from her voice it had been a bad one. "Fucker might be dumb, but it's tough."

"It is that," I said, clenching my throat to keep from going into a coughing fit. I swallowed, and it hurt. I swallowed again, and it was a little better.

Rune's rock fell again, though how she'd known where the kut ku would be, I didn't know. It went down, burning fluid pouring from its beak in a stream as the rock crushed it. I didn't hear bones break this time, but at least its berserk rush was finally stopped.

"Back to it," I said, forcing myself to my feet. My arm and side tingled where I'd been burned, and my chest and hip ached, sharp enough that I suspected broken bones, but I staggered forward, gaining speed with each step. Behind me, Shadow Stalker fired without getting up, and I slewed to the side, clearing her line of fire.

Her bolts took the wyvern in the legs, hitting it in the heel and the back of the knee right as it tried to rise. It had more than a dozen of the black shafts sticking out of it now, Rune had hit it at least three times, and rivulets of blood dripped down from slashes all over its stomach, or from dozens of places where Rifle had hit it, but it _kept going_. It forced itself upright, beady eyes slitted in anger that easily crosses species, and its ears unfurled again from its head as it stared me down.

Just then, another white sphere rolled in from the side, bursting with a ringing tone right under the kut ku's beak, and its stubborn rise turned into a sudden sprawl, its legs kicking out at the shock of the noise.

"Get it!" Rifle shouted. He'd tossed the bomb, I realized, and he was right. I'd never have a better chance than this.

I lunged forward and grabbed the hilt of my sword, yanking at it, not to pull it out, but to cut in deeper. I dragged it down the wyvern's stomach, and this time blood didn't drip out. It didn't run in little channels down its scales. It gushed and spurted as I dragged the blade down, muscles shaking with the strain. It was hard. Incredibly hard. My feet slid on the loose clutter of the cave floor, and I braced myself, leaning in, pulling as hard as I could.

The blade moved in fits and starts, and the monster flapped, panicked now, trying to throw me off. Rune's rock fell again, once more crushing its wing against its body, and both Rifle and Shadow Stalker added their fire to the mix.

It wasn't enough.

The monster threw me off and surged to its feet. I hadn't been expecting it, and I kept hold of my sword this time, the blade coming loose with a wet sucking sound as my feet slipped and I fell to the floor.

It cried out in rage, red foam pouring from its beak. Blood, rather than fire. It took a step, then two, claws contracting, scraping the ground. An advance, not a retreat. Something slippery and wet slid out of the huge, gaping cut in its stomach. Its wings flapped, broken, uneven. Then it took one final step, and fell.

Nobody moved. Nobody even breathed. We stared at the fallen form as its last breath rattled out, slowly trailing off into silence.

"I..." Shadow Stalker started, then flinched as her own voice broke the silence. "I don't think it's that goofy, anymore."

"No," Rune breathed, stare still fixed on the dead monster. "No. Holy shit."

I clambered to my feet, stepping over to the still form. It looked smaller now, lying twisted on the dirty cave floor. Not at all the same as it had been less than a minute before.

"The ears," Rifle said, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat. "They'll do for proof of a kill." He looked around, but nobody replied. "We should get moving," he added. "We should go."

"No," I said, tearing my attention away from the kut ku's body. "This-" I closed my mouth with a click, trying to think of what to say, how to phrase it. "This was something else. I want- I need some time. Give me some time."

"What-" Rifle started.

"I get it," Shadow Stalker said, talking over him. "Rifle, Rune, come on. We'll guard the mouth of the cave."

Rifle stared at her for a moment, then nodded. The three of them left together, staggering out of the cave, leaving me alone with the kill.

"Alright," I whispered. "I know you can't hear me, and you probably wouldn't agree if you could, but that..." I shook my head. I felt stupid, talking to a dead monster. I kept going. "That was something special, and now... You will be too."

With that, I pulled my carving knife from its sheath at the back of my belt and placed it on the ground. Then I got out my glue, my acids, my chisel, and I got to work.


	8. Hunt the Carnivore!

**Chapter Eight: Hunt the Carnivore!**

"This is your ten AM wake-up call. I'd like to remind you, again, that this is not a normal service the Protectorate provides."

My eyes snapped open, dreaming to wide awake in a fraction of a second. I sat up. It hadn't always been like that, before I got my power. I'd never been a morning person, then.

"Hotels do it," I said.

"This isn't a hotel," the voice from my phone said, not even a hint of annoyance in their tone.

"Cool, cool," I said. "Same time tomorrow."

The phone clicked, the front desk hanging up.

I hopped out of bed and stretched. I still wasn't entirely recovered from the fight, and my body complained at the abuse. The staff in the medical wing had said I had a fractured pelvis, right up by my hip, and some less serious stress fractures in my sternum and a number of ribs. I'd probably had soft tissue damage too, but that was already healed by the time I got back. The bruising would take longer to work its way out, but that was mostly cosmetic. If bruises slowed me down at all, I'd never been able to notice.

The aches and pains faded away quickly enough, and I headed to the shower. One of the perks of living on base, every suite in the barracks had its own private bathroom. Not a big one. The shower was a standing stall, rather than a bathtub. But it was still way better than I'd had in the past, and better than I'd been expecting.

I went through my morning routine, getting clean, shaving, and buzzing my hair down. It grew fast, these days. Part of my power, more than likely. At one point I'd worried that my power was just a sped up metabolism, and I would age way faster than normal. But that didn't seem to be the case. The opposite, if anything.

Eventually I set down my electric razor and headed back to my bedroom to get dressed. I kicked aside a pile of empty chip bags and the little paper cartons the canteen served delivery and takeout in, and walked over to my armor stand.

It was a nice stand, I had to say. A white plastic dressing dummy with a number of tabs and screws to adjust the proportions, I'd set it to match me pretty much precisely. It was connected to a base plate by a bar that fed into the back at waist height, which was also adjustable. The entire thing could be posed, and I'd wondered a few times if it was made for the costume department. It seemed too fancy to use for just storage, with way more features and functions than necessary.

It had also occurred to me that I'd got it because I was a tinker.

My plate-and-chain armor was not, as usual, occupying the stand. What was left of it was tossed on the ground in a heap, along with my gym gear and some dirty underwear that hadn't been picked up for washing yet. In its place was my new armor, and even though I hadn't worn it yet I already knew I'd never be going back to the chain set.

For the most part, the new armor was made from the slightly flexible and ludicrously strong plates of lobster-red armor from the kut-ku's back. The monster had been big enough that I'd been able to make a helmet, breast-and-back plate, pauldrons, gauntlets, and an armored skirt from it. It looked a bit weird, banded plates of red carapace with spiked edges and protrusions all over it, but I liked it. It had a kind of Oriental feel, Japanese or Chinese maybe. I'd run with the theme a bit, adding a blue sash made of strips of braided wing membrane to hold the skirt in place, and then gone even farther and used a segment of the beak for a crotch protector.

The under-layer of the armor was tough, too, enough that it almost qualified as armor on its own. A shirt made of blue wing membrane, connected with ties of the same material to the armor that sat above it. The pants that went along with the armor weren't as heavy – most monsters were tall enough that I wasn't worried about hits to the legs – but they'd been made with sections of scales and yet more wing membrane, coming out looking like white-and-blue leather, with some scaled sections and a little flare at the bottom. I'd also tied some pieces of red carapace to them to act as knee protectors.

For shoes, I'd just gone with simple black slippers made from the wyvern's claws. Almost like clogs. I hadn't worn them yet, but I knew they'd have excellent grip on almost any surface, and they'd fit perfectly.

Beyond that I'd just added a drape of white and blue scales around the sides and back of the helmet, to protect my neck, a blue mask that covered my eyes and nose but left my mouth and chin visible – the opposite of the chain veil I'd used on my old armor – and an admittedly decorative tassel on the top that fell down the back of the helmet like a ponytail.

Eventually I realized that I'd been standing there in my underwear staring at the armor for almost fifteen minutes, and I shook myself. I reached out, then hesitated, moving my hand to brush over the surface of the breastplate. I'd made it almost in a frenzy, right after the monster had died, when my tinker power was at its height. I barely remembered what I'd done, and couldn't have explained it if I had. I knew that from experience.

It looked impressive, but not in a way that said 'tinker' to most people. No electronics, nothing mechanical. Hell, a good team of costumers could make something that looked just like it. But it wouldn't have been the same. In some very real way, what I'd made was more than just the sum of the parts that had gone into it, impressive as those were. Either through precision – everything put together exactly right – or something more esoteric, like an ability to imbue the strength of the dead monster into the armor, it was _special_. In the end, that was what mattered.

I lifted the helmet off the stand and settled it onto my head. It fit perfectly, the inside smooth against my scalp, not squeezing, but molded to me well enough that I knew it wouldn't slip no matter what kind of hits I took.

"Yeah," I said to myself, satisfied.

I got into motion, untying the armor from the stand and donning it. It took a few minutes. Not quite as convenient as my other armor, but not that much worse. I was sure my power helped. There was space for all the straps and packs from my old armor, of course, and once I was dressed I transferred them over, unstrapping them from the chain armor and buckling them on. They sat in recesses between the plates, or in the lee of the spiked protrusions, as if I'd planned for it, though I had no memory of doing so.

My sword's sheath fit right where it had before, in the small of my back, and my shield strapped tight to my forearm.

Everything was just right.

It was probably just my imagination, but I felt stronger, as if donning the armor had removed a weight from my shoulders rather than literally adding one. I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, ducked left and right, then threw a few punches, shadow boxing.

Even my wounds felt less significant. If it was just my imagination, some placebo effect, or just the power of positive thinking, I wasn't going to complain.

I left my suite, walking through the brushed steel and frosted glass halls toward the same meeting room I'd been to on my first day in the city. On the way, my stride lengthened, almost a swagger, and I barely held in a smile as I pushed open the door.

"'Sup, bitches!" I said, spreading my arms. "Check me out!"

"You're late, Hunter," Chevalier said, from the front of the room.

"Ah, sorry," I replied, letting my arms drop. I felt a flush creep up my neck. I hadn't expected him to be here yet.

"It's fine," he said. "Take a seat."

I did, slinking over and taking a seat beside Shadow Stalker. She was right at the front, as far as she could get from Rune, who sat in the back corner. Rifle was sitting halfway between them with his gun laid on the table, disassembled and surrounded by brushes, bottles, and little tools I couldn't identify.

"The armor suits you," Shadow Stalker said as I dropped into my seat. "Halfway between badass and retarded."

"That's me, baby," I said, snapping my fingers and winking at her. "Batarded."

She held in a laugh, the sound turning into something between a snort and a cough, then ducked her head as Chevalier cleared his throat.

"You've all been here for a week now," he said. "And you've completed two missions. Normally those missions would have been easy, with a focus on exploration or gathering, or possibly hunting some smaller monsters such as velociprey. The point being to get you familiar with the terrain of Pangaea, and comfortable going through the portal."

Rifle looked up from cleaning his gun. "Is that something that most people need?" he asked. "I found the situation fairly normal, for the most part. Fighting excepted, obviously."

"Few people take fighting a monster in stride," Chevalier agreed. "And the answer is both yes and no. Most junior Protectorate members come to us without any experience as a cape, or at least with very little. You're all exceptions in that. Barring Rifle, you've all fought other capes, which is in many ways similar to fighting a monster. Rifle, you've had a relatively long career, which has given you significant experience with your power and working with a team of other parahumans. To all of you, going through the portal and fighting on the other side is just an extension of what you've already done. To someone that's only had their power a week, it can be a shocking departure from normal life."

"Yeah, I can see how it would be," Rifle said. "Consider me enlightened."

"So, since we've done a bunch of stuff faster than normal, is this meeting gonna skip some steps too?" Rune asked, raising her voice to be heard from the back of the room.

"Good guess," Chevalier said, giving her a nod that his armor made more of a salute. "You're right, this would normally be a preliminary meeting, the first time a new team and their mentor spoke seriously about what it's like to be Protectorate. The risks and the responsibilities."

"And the rewards?" Rifle asked.

"And those," Chevalier said. "However, I think we can all agree that you four are beyond that point. You've seen firsthand what it's like over there, you've completed your first hunt of a fully-fledged wyvern, and you've succeeded at a two-star ranked mission. I think we can dispense with the usual lectures."

"Thank god," Shadow Stalker muttered.

"Instead," Chevalier continued. "We'll move on to the next step. You're all aware that Philadelphia only has the one portal, leading to a fairly calm portion of the Forest and Hills biome. It's still in the process of being pacified, which is how the city supports three full hunting teams, as well as more than a dozen other heroes and villains. But it's still-"

"Hey, question," Rifle said, holding his hand up slightly to get Chevalier's attention. Chevalier nodded. "So, I've read the Protectorate guidebook a few times at this point. In section two it goes over the rationale for why only one team is allowed in a designated zone at a time, and-"

"Oh hey, I was gonna ask about that," I said, interrupting his interruption. "I know they only deploy one team at a time, but is that, like, a law? Because-"

"I was getting to that," Rifle said, giving me an annoyed look, then turning back to Chevalier. "So, I was wondering why it was that we encountered Gunner and Wingtip over there."

"First," Chevalier said, looking at me. "It is a law. Only one team of at most four parahumans is to be present within a given area of Pangaea at any one time. I went over the why of that when we first met." He turned to Rifle. "The reason they were there, presumably, is because they're villains, rather than heroes. Breaking the laws about conduct on the other side of the portals is one way of making that distinction. However, their behavior is tolerated so long as they don't cause harm to civilians or Protectorate employees, because their actions against monsters are still considered too valuable to do without. Does that answer the question?"

"It does," Rifle said. "Sorry for the interruption."

Shadow Stalker leaned in toward me. "Your cluster-buddies are villains?" she asked, quietly.

I nodded. "Dyed in the wool, blackest of black," I replied, just as quiet.

"Bullshit," she said, leaning in more, sounding more intrigued than disbelieving. "Really?"

"Nah," I said.

She scoffed, straightening back up. "Asshole."

"Now, as I was saying," Chevalier said, raising his voice. Shadow Stalker and I shut up, refocusing on him. "The city only has one portal, leading to a fairly quiet area of Pangaea. There's not enough there to keep a two-star team busy, and that's undoubtedly what you are now. Indeed, two-star teams are often starved for work in general, and often subsist on single-star missions. I can assume, however, that you're not interested in that."

He glanced between us, gaze lingering for a moment before moving on. His helmet was full-face, so I couldn't guess what he was thinking, or what kind of answer he wanted.

"I think I speak for the others, but definitely not myself, in agreeing with that," Rifle said, deadpan.

"That's why you're the boss," I said, looking over my shoulder at him. "You know us so well."

"I'll get to the point then," Chevalier said, giving no impression of what he felt about Rifle's comment. "Normally a team would need at least a month or two before getting to this point, but it's been suggested that you're ready to go through other portals, either at the New York or Phoenix nexus. Moreover, you've been approved to take a promotion mission. A nominally three-star hunt. If you succeed, you'll be eligible for further three-star missions."

"We only just did a single two-star mission, though." Rifle protested. "And we aren't even at the point of accepting our own missions. But we're being assigned a three-star hunt? Who approved this?"

"I said it before, you're being fast-tracked," Chevalier said. "The Protectorate requires more high-level teams, and your performance has been deemed sufficient to allow for further advancement."

"This isn't what I expected when I got the offer to join," Rifle said. His voice was harsher now. Not angry, but clipped. Precise. "I assumed mentorship to mean we'd be taught how to use our powers better, strategies for hunting, things like that. I didn't imagine I'd be tossed in the deep end of the pool and expected to like it."

"That kind of teaching isn't possible for parahumans," Chevalier said. "Powers are too different from each other. Training by one cape can actually hurt the progression of another, because what holds true for one is often not applicable to anyone else. Hunting strategies are the same. No two teams have quite the same abilities. What I'm here for is to help you avoid common pitfalls, and to familiarize you with the Protectorate. What it requires, and what it provides. I'm here to advise you."

"Then, would it be your advice to take the mission?" Rifle asked.

Chevalier hesitated, just enough to notice, before speaking. "It's what the Protectorate needs," he said.

"That's a no, then," Rifle said, his voice harder, almost accusing.

"It's not a no," Chevalier said. "I said it's what the Protectorate needs, and that's true. It's also an opportunity for you, and one that I'm forced to admit that I believe you're ready for."

"That's an odd way to phrase things," Rifle noted, in the same tone.

"It's the truth," Chevalier said.

"For what it's worth, I'm all for it," I said. I rapped an armor-clad knuckle against my breastplate. It made a hollow sound. "I'm all dressed up and ready to go for it."

"Seconded," Shadow Stalker said, raising her hand. "No point in sitting around. We kicked ass before. I vote we move forward."

"Hunter almost died, fighting the yian kut ku," Rifle pointed out.

"It wasn't actually that close," I said.

"It was still _too_ close," he continued. "I almost got injured, and Shadow Stalker _did_ get injured. What was the prognosis, by the way?"

Shadow Stalker shrugged. "Doctors didn't know," she said. "That happens, when I take a hit while I'm in shadow form. By a monster, anyway. Everything else just goes through. It hurts, but nobody knows why."

"Dangerous either way," Rifle said. "Honestly, I don't think we're ready."

"I do," Rune said, and Rifle shot her a surprised look. "What? I do. Yeah, we had a couple hard fights, but we won, or at least got away. I've already thought of ways to do better, and I bet you have too."

"I have," Rifle admitted. "I'd like some time to test my theories on enemies I know we can face, though. I'd rather not try them in life or death fights and find out they don't work."

"That's something the Protectorate can help with," Chevalier said. "We have testing areas, for weapons and powers, in the R&D wing. I can get you a passcard and put you in touch with some of the researchers."

"I'd like that, whatever we decide to do," Rifle said. "Thank you."

Chevalier nodded to him.

"I think we're already decided," I said. "The voting's three to one. Pretty clear-cut decision in favor."

Rifle looked at me, then at Shadow Stalker, who nodded her head. He looked at Rune, and she shrugged. "Sorry," she said. "I think it's a good chance. Probably a big jump in pay, too."

Rifle sagged in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. "I'd like to veto this," he said. "But I don't expect that would work."

"Damn right it wouldn't," Shadow Stalker said.

"It might," I disagreed. "If you could think of a really convincing reason other than the danger we're all obviously happy to face, I'd change my vote. But I think this really is the best thing for us. Fastest way to advance. Am I wrong?"

"No," Rifle said. "Or at least, I think you're probably not. But that doesn't mean I'm happy with it."

"If you can think of another option..." I said, trailing off, giving him a chance to respond.

"Not at the moment," he admitted. He turned to Chevalier. "When would this three-star mission be?"

"At least a few days from now," he said. "The doctors want to clear Hunter and Shadow Stalker first, and there's still the matter of Rune's previous injury."

"I'm fine," Rune said, grabbing her shoulder and pumping her arm in a circle. "It was only out of its socket. I'm good for whenever."

"I believe you, but that's still for the doctors to determine," Chevalier said, then turned back to Rifle. "All being well, I'd say the time frame is anywhere from three days to a week from now. It's obviously dependent on whether an appropriate target presents itself, though I think we can be confident that one will."

"Okay," Rifle said, swiftly reassembling his gun and stuffing his tools into pouches on his costume. He stood up, cradling the weapon. "If I can't convince you three to turn this down, I'd like to make sure we're ready for it. Three days." He looked to Chevalier. "Are we done?"

"Unless anyone has any other questions," he said. I shook my head, and the others stayed quiet. "Then yes, we're done. I'm not going to be available tomorrow, due to a mission, but I'll be around after that if any of you have questions or requests."

He waited for another moment while Rifle left the room, then shouldered his cannonblade and walked out.

I stood up, stretching again. My hip and chest didn't particularly hurt, but they were a bit stiff. A familiar feeling. Like stretching after a workout.

"You okay?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Sure as shit better than I would be without my power," I said, lowering my arms and rolling my shoulders.

She snorted. "You'd be dead without your power."

"Yep," I agreed.

Rune got up and gave us a look, then left as well. Shadow Stalker watched her go, almost staring her down, but Rune didn't didn't even look in her direction.

"So..." Shadow Stalker said, once everyone else had gone. "Wanna come back to my room?"

My brain stuttered for a moment, and I blinked at her. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," she said, her stance shifting. She put one foot forward, cocked her hip, and planted a fist on it. "That a problem?"

"You mean, like-"

"I'm not fucking inviting you to do wine tasting or art appreciation," she snapped. "So, yeah, it's like that. Unless you were just fucking with me with all the flirting. So what's it gonna be, yes or no?"

I grinned. "Most girls don't ask a guy out like there's a bullet to the head if they say no."

"I'm not most girls," she said, reaching out to grab the collar of my armor. She pulled me in, and I let her. "And yeah, there's a bullet if you say no, or at least a bolt. But you already knew that."

"Gotta admit, it's part of why I like you," I said, still grinning. "You're fun. So yeah, why not? Let's do it."

"Right answer," she said, pushing me away again, but keeping one finger on my collar. She stepped toward the door, using that one finger to pull me after her, and I obliged, walking with her.

Out in the hall, she removed the finger and stepped away. "I'm on the fourth floor. We'll need to take the elevator up."

"After you," I said, gesturing for her to lead the way. She nodded, glanced down the hall, then nodded again before setting off, moving fast.

I followed, then turned to her as we walked. "You know I'm not gonna stop fucking with you because of this, right?"

"And you know I'm not gonna turn all gooey, holding hands and watching the sun set," she replied.

I faked a shudder. "God, I hope not."

"Can't imagine anything more boring," she said.

"Pathetic," I agreed.

She snapped her fingers a few times. "Grotesque," she added.

"Nauseating," I said, with a nod.

"Horrendous."

"Atrocious."

"Abhorrent."

She paused, glancing down at her phone. "Detestable."

"Phone's cheating," I said. "Repulsive."

"All's fair in love and war," she said, then shot me a look. "Especially both. Loathsome."

I grinned at her again, and we continued like that until we reached her door. It was the same as mine, a solid piece of metal that slid sideways when opened, with her name on it.

She stopped in front of it and turned to me, hands held behind her back, under her cloak. "So, here we are."

"We are here," I agreed.

She nodded, then turned around, swiping her card. The door slid open, and she stepped through, then turned to me again.

"You coming?"

My heartbeat sped up a bit, and I stepped forward, then paused. "Yeah," I said, to me as much as to her, and continued.

The door slid shut behind me, and I looked around. Her room – her suite – was set up in the same as mine. A short hallway with a closet, leading into a small living room with two couches and an entertainment center. Mine had come with a TV and a laptop, and so had hers, though there was a second laptop lying open on the couch. A cheaper civilian model. A semi-partitioned kitchenette was joined to the living room, and from the look of it hers was as unused as mine. The living room was anything but, with paperback novels and magazines scattered around, and all the cushions moved onto one of the couches, the other shoved up against the wall to make room. There were half-empty cardboard boxes piled on it, open, with writing on the side in black marker. The only one I could read said 'breadroom stuff'. No idea what that meant. An inside joke, probably.

Shadow Stalker watched me as I surveyed the room, staring at me, but it wasn't even a minute until she broke the silence.

"Something to say about the way I live?" she challenged me. Her voice wavered, just a bit.

"Kinda," I said, turning to her. "I was expecting like, monster heads mounted on the walls, or a rack of bloody spears or something. Not..." I glanced to one of the magazines. "Teen Vogue."

She laughed, a sudden sound. "A friend sends them to me," she said. "I tell her they're lame, she tells me I need all the help I can get."

"I don't think you need any help," I said. "I think you're pretty fantastic."

"Right answer," she said, then stepped over to the kitchen. "So, you want anything? I've got like, Coke, or root beer."

"I'm good," I said. "So, you've got friends that send you stuff? Not to be a dick, but you didn't strike me as the type."

"Most people are just lame," she said. "I'm fine with having friends, as long as they aren't."

"And me?" I asked. "Am I lame?"

She paused, shifting her feet. "Do you really expect me to answer that?" she said, her tone challenging again.

I smiled. "Maybe not."

"Rune and Rifle, they're definitely lame," she said, stepping out of the kitchen and back into the living room. She stood in the middle of the floor, looking around, then continued. "They're like, children, you know? I mean, Rune's literally a child. She's, what, thirteen? Fourteen?"

"I'm only sixteen," I said. "Pretty sure you're not any older."

She brushed that away. "World of fucking difference," she said. "But they..." She paused. "They don't get it. When they're on the other side, in Pangaea, they're..."

"Nervous?" I suggested. She shook her head. "Scared? Outsiders?"

"Exactly! They'd be happy to do the dumb school shit, like what Chevalier was talking about. I was in the JP back in Boston for a bit, a few years ago. It was like that there, and it fucking sucked."

"I bet," I said. "I wouldn't have been able to stand it."

"I couldn't," she said, angry. "It was bullshit. You and me, we're the same like that. When we're on the other side, we're _happy_. We're in our element. It's where we _belong_. I... I never met another boy like that, who really got it, you know?"

I nodded, remembering. "It's a big deal, being with someone you can connect with." I paused. "Even if they're a violent psycho."

She flicked a knife into her hands, out of nowhere. "Or a douchebag who can't help but spoil the mood," she growled.

I nodded again. "Or that," I said, looking her up and down. "So, you gonna stab me, or..?"

"Or..." she said, taking a breath. "Yeah, or..."

She flicked her hand, and the knife disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. She reached to her throat, flicked a clip, and spun her cloak off, tossing it onto the pillowless couch. I couldn't help but notice that her hands were shaking, just a bit. She reached up to her mask, and I opened my mouth.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Don't say it. I know the mask stays on. I... thought about it, I guess. I kinda like it, even. I'm not dumb, and you and Rifle aren't the only ones that can do that Psych one-oh-one shit. So..."

She lifted the edge of her mask, undid a hidden clip, and a band I hadn't seen hidden under her hair came loose. She pulled the mask over her head, hair streaming through the band, then tossed it on top of the cloak. Underneath, she had a second mask that was a bit like mine, or at least my current one. It was black, and it covered the top half of her face, held on my some unseen means, hiding her nose, cheeks, and forehead. Her eyes were covered by translucent lens, and they displayed a lot more uncertainty than her stance. Her skin was dark, which I hadn't expected. Her costume had covered her entirely, until now at least. Her lips curved up into a nervous smile.

"Well?" she asked. "You gonna do anything, or just stand there like a retard?"

"Batard," I reminded her, and her smile quirked up for a moment. "You're a lot more expressive without the mask."

"Oh my god," she muttered, then raised her voice. "Fine, if you're gonna be a smartass..." She walked over to me, her steps sure, and reached up to pull at one of the ties of my armor. "If you're not going to do anything..." she said, her voice low. "I'm just gonna take what I want. The mask stays on-" she yanked, and the tie came undone. "But this comes off."

I reached down, took her chin in gauntlet-encased fingers, and raised her face up. Her eyes widened, her breath sped up, and her arms stiffened, but she didn't pull away.

"Do it, asshole," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, unsure. "Fucking do it."

I bent down, and kissed her.


	9. The Lurking Desert Giant

**Chapter Nine: The Lurking Desert Giant**

"Hey, we're almost- Oh my god, really?"

I glanced up to see Rune, head poking through the curtain that hung between the passenger section of the cart and the central aisle. What I could see of her expression was partway between shocked and disgusted.

Shadow Stalker's reaction was more significant. She flung herself off me and spun around, grabbing her mask, putting it on, and taking a seat on the bench as far from me as possible, all in one motion.

"Seriously?" Rune asked, glancing between us. "Since when?"

"Day after we fought the kut ku," I said.

"Don't fucking tell her!" Shadow Stalker said, aiming a punch at me. It was a more cautious strike than usual. My new armor was spiky, and tough enough that she'd hurt her fist once before.

"Why not?" I asked, ignoring the punch.

"Okay, don't care," Rune said, pulling back and letting the curtain fall into place. She spoke again, from the other side. "We're almost at the New York station. So... yeah."

She left, her footsteps hurriedly receding toward the front of the cart.

"Think she'll tell Rifle?" Shadow Stalker asked, once she was gone.

I looked at her. She was still sitting on the far end of the bench, hands held in her lap. With her mask back on, I couldn't read her expression. I gave her a shrug. "I don't really care," I told her. "Were we trying to keep this a secret?"

She gave me a look, straightening up on her seat. I could imagine the sort of twisted half-frown, the way her eyebrows were lowering over her building glare. I grinned at her, and she tossed her head, scoffing, then flipped up her hood, stuffing her ponytail down the back.

"I just don't want to hear any bullshit lectures about it," she said. "How it's 'not professional' or whatever."

"To be fair to him, Rifle hasn't really done that," I said. "He thinks it, I'm pretty sure, but he doesn't say it."

"Whatever," she said, waving a hand to brush aside the distinction. "Just as bad."

"Well, we could hit him with a dung bomb," I said, fishing in my pouch and holding one up. "Preemptive revenge."

She chuckled – she'd have stabbed me if I called it a giggle – and shook her head. "No. Tempting, but then we'd have to smell it too. Also, why are you carrying a literal ball of shit with you?"

"They're apparently useful," I said, putting it away again. "And it's in a bomb casing. Trust me, I'd know if it were leaking."

"Guess you would," she said. "Fuck, whatever. As long as it's you suffering, I don't care. We should get ready."

"Baby, I'm always ready," I told her, gesturing randomly. She laughed, and threw another punch at me that I barely felt.

"C'mon, idiot," she said, standing up and straightening her costume. "I want to see the portal station from this side."

The last time I'd ridden a monster-drawn cart through Pangaea, it had been one meant for shipping goods. Various non-electronic commodities sealed in containers made of local materials, much as the cart itself was, to keep the monsters away. Stuff where the benefits of shipping something across the country – or the world – in under an hour outweighed the risks of it getting lost or destroyed, and the costs associated with that.

Cart drivers, I'd heard, could make an absolute fortune in a pretty short time. More than Protectorate capes, even, if they were willing to make multiple runs a day.

They took similar losses, too.

This trip was made in a cart designed to transport passengers. People who were willing to take the same risks, and pay the same money, for the reward of ultra-fast cross-continental travel. As we walked up toward the front of the cart we passed several dozen cabins like the one we'd been so pleasantly occupying. Small wooden rooms, with few amenities, sectioned off by simple curtains from the hallway that ran down the middle of the cart. It was pretty bare-bones, considering the cost of a trip, but given that most were well under an hour that probably wasn't considered much of a factor.

Rifle and Rune were already sitting with the driver as we reached the front, and I could tell by the looks they gave me that Rune had already told Rifle what she'd seen. She refused to look at us, and the stare Rifle traced over us was flatly disapproving. More than normal, even.

"Hunter, you've got some..." Rifle said, gesturing to my face.

"What?" I said, brushing my gauntlet-covered fingers over the area he'd indicated. They came away slightly stained. "Oh! Lipstick." I turned to Shadow Stalker. "I didn't even notice. I'm flattered."

"Asshole," she muttered, glancing away from me. She was standing a bit back from where I'd stopped, shrouded in her cloak, and though she rode the rocking motion of the cart as easily as I did, I thought she looked a bit defensive.

I debated pushing things a bit further, but decided against it. Needling her was fun, and I enjoyed the reaction, but there was a difference between playful anger and actually being pissed off.

Granted I enjoyed both, but I was well aware that most people didn't.

"So, portal station?" I asked, instead.

Rifle cleared his throat. "Right. Since we're Protectorate, we're allowed to be up here with the driver," he said.

"Appreciate the support, by the way," the driver said. He looked different from the previous one, swathed in a cloak as obscuring as Shadow Stalker's, made of rough-knit fibers, holding reins of the same material, though they were connected to an aptonoth that was visually indistinguishable from Ella. An obvious attempt to stay out of sight of monsters, though the box of bombs sitting at his feet was evidence that hiding was only a first line of defense.

"Of course," Rifle said, smiling a clearly rehearsed smile. He turned to me. "The Protectorate posts notices whenever a team is going to be on a cart," he said. "It's why we travel free. It lets them increase the price of transport, because there's someone around to fight monsters if they show up. Drivers make more money that way, though some of the fees also goes back to the Protectorate."

"Neat," I replied.

"Anyway," he continued. "Another advantage of being up here is that we're allowed to disembark first, skip the line. I want to get to the desert portal as quickly as possible."

"What's the hurry?" I asked.

"No hurry," he said. "Professionalism. If possible, always do a job as quickly as you can. There's less trouble that way, and you can get to the next job sooner."

I nodded, withholding the obvious comment that it seemed more like a thief-thing than a hero-thing.

We were quiet after that, and I imagined there was some awkwardness for the others. Rune kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead, and Rifle fiddled with his gear, fingers flicking over his bandolier, checking that his shells were all in place. Shadow Stalker stood at the top of the stairs rather than taking a seat, so still and silent that I could almost forget she was there.

I, for my part, stared at the approaching portal station. I'd seen the inside before, when I'd boarded, and I'd seen the Philadelphia station from both sides. But this was different.

It was still a blocky building of rough-cut stone and wood, of course. It had to be. Those were the only easily-sourced materials on this side, and even getting enough of _them_ was hard. You couldn't just set up a quarry, after all. Even if it had been possible, transporting the stone would still have been a huge bottleneck. No trucks, no rail-lines, no GPS. No radios or phones, even.

The fact that there was a station at all, let alone one at every portal, was impressive in its own right. The fact that this one was _huge_ just added to that. Sprawling, five or six stories high, with multiple layers of walls, battlements, and crenelations, as well as what looked like siege weapons poking out of every hole. It wasn't just a station. It was a fortress.

A gate creaked open as we neared, a rusted portcullis slowly raising along with it. The cart passed through, and inside I saw that the station wasn't just active on the Earth Bet side. There were people here, too, working at all the sorts of jobs I'd have expected of a medieval castle town. There were pens with local, monstrous animals in them – aptonoths, kelbi, those fuzzy local pigs, and more – as well as tended fields of local plants, forges, blacksmiths, and lots of stuff I didn't even recognize. Whole industries.

"I wonder if the Philadelphia station will be like this, eventually?" I mused.

"Probably," Rifle said. "Especially if more portals start opening in the city."

"Um," Rune said, glancing around, her eyes quickly flicking away from my face, making me realize that I still hadn't cleaned off the lipstick. I pulled out a cloth and got to work. "So maybe I'm an idiot, but how do the portals work, exactly? I've only taken the one from Boston to Philly, and, you know, gone through to fight."

"Do you mean the mechanics?" Rifle asked. "The science behind them? Because if so, nobody knows."

"No, like... how they link up, where they go," she said.

"Ah, well that's easier," he replied. "When a portal opens up, it connects a given space on Pangaea to a given space on our Earth. They tend to cluster, opening up within ten or fifteen miles of each other, so you get nexuses on both sides, though portals to the same place rarely open within a hundred miles. So there's only one portal here that goes to New York, and one in Boston, and one in Philadelphia, etc."

"Okay, I get that," Rune said. "I mean, like, other portals. We're going through from here to New York, then from there to the desert. But there's other portals in the desert, so we could go to like, Detroit or-"

"There's no Detroit portal in the desert," Rifle said. "The desert portals cluster closely in Pangaea, but they link to areas that are far apart on Earth. I think there's only three in North America, and the others are on other continents. But-"

"Okay," Rune said over him, her voice a bit angry. "So we could go through one of them, _wherever_ it comes out, then go through a portal on this side back to the forest and hills, then from there back to Philly, right?"

Rifle nodded. "More or less. It can get sticky with legality, since portals currently exist in something like thirty counties, and they've opened in far more. But many nations prefer to close portals as soon as possible rather than exploit them. Keeping them open without them spilling monsters out takes a lot of money, and a lot of capes. There's other risks too."

"How many places do most portals link to?" I asked, then paused. "Okay, that sounded dumb. Rephrase. How many portals does a nexus usually have?"

"On our side, New York is the biggest, with seven portals," Rifle said. "Most places that have one have at least two or three, though. Like I said, portals tend to cluster. Here in Pangaea, the number is higher. Most Pangaean biomes have a least a dozen portals, and portals to fresh biomes are rare. One every two or three years, usually."

"If we're doing Q&A, I've got one," Shadow Stalker said, and I almost jumped. She'd been that quiet. "How big are portals? The ones I've been through seemed pretty small, like hallway sized, but monsters can get pretty huge. So how does that work?"

"Well, the portals are largely filled up," Rifle said. "That's how they stop them from expanding."

Everyone was silent, and he looked around, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"I know you do that when you're annoyed," I told him. "It's pretty obvious."

He snatched his hand out of his hair and held it in his lap.

"Okay," he said, raising his voice a bit. "I thought this was common knowledge, but apparently not. Portals are two-dimensional, and they expand. They open small, then get bigger at a set rate. The rate is different from portal to portal, and it's linear by area. So the diameter increases quickly at first, slowing down over time. But they don't expand through solid matter, including the ground. Normally growth that's stopped in one direction just means they spread faster in others, since the rate of expansion stays constant. It can lead to some pretty unusual shapes, even though all portals start as perfect circles. But if a portal is bounded by solid matter on all sides, the growth stops entirely. It's a big part of why the stations are build like they are, solidly, on both sides. To stop the expansion."

"FYI," the driver said. "That _is_ common knowledge. Even heard it on TV." He glanced at us over his shoulder. "But I guess y'all are kids."

"They are that," Rifle muttered.

I opened my mouth. "Don't!" Rune said, glaring at me, before I could get a word out.

"Well, not now that you've ruined it," I told her.

"Good," she said, turning back to look at the street the cart was still rumbling through. I followed her gaze, staring at the solid stone buildings we were passing. They were built in blocks, their walls forming supporting sections of the fortress, and where there were doors and windows, they were higher up, leaving the bottom fifteen or twenty feet of each building blank, almost brutal-looking stone.

"In case you also weren't aware," Rifle said. "Portals are closed by removing all life on both sides, down to even plants and bacteria, with the exclusion zone increasing in size with the portal. It doesn't have to be complete, but the vast majority of living matter does need to be moved or destroyed before the growth turns to shrinking, and even then it takes some time to totally close. Hours or days. Some people theorize that a kind of life-force powers the portals, explaining the difference in expansion rate from one to the next. But it's never been proven, and the data isn't very consistent."

"Huh," I said. "Never thought about that. Neat."

"Hate to interrupt your classroom time, but we're here," the driver said.

I looked up from Rifle to see that we were approaching the center of the fortress. There was another blocky stone building there, a fortress within a fortress. We passed through walls even thicker than the exterior ones, broken only by a handful of huge metal-bound wooden gates, leading into a dark interior space, lit by chemical lanterns high up on the walls. Inside, the building was largely open, nearly a shell, separated by lower walls that created channels, leading to a number of bays where carts were being loaded or unloaded by teamsters in blue-and-brown Protectorate uniforms. Those same channels, I guessed, could be used to herd monsters that made it this far.

I got a feeling, and looked around. There was a blocky construction near the cart bays, which I figured was probably what bound the portal itself, similar to the Philadelphia station. The center of the center of the center, although it wasn't actually in the middle of the fortress. Closer to what I'd call a back wall, opposite the doors that were still slowly closing behind us. The portal enclosure had crenelations on top of it, and above those were mounted weapons I could only call ballistas, and a few old-timey cannon. From their positions, they'd have a line of fire into all the channels, letting them rain down attacks on invading monsters.

"Okay, this place is kind of awesome," I said.

"It's well designed," Rifle agreed. "Never been breached since the fortifications were finished, though it hasn't been hit by an elder dragon yet."

I nodded, and neither Shadow Stalker nor Rune reacted, but the driver hunched his shoulders and crossed himself.

Getting the cart docked was something of an ordeal, given the size, the primitive materials, and the fact that it was pulled by an only more-or-less trained monster. Pulling straight ahead or backing in would be basically impossible, so instead the driver maneuvered the cart into a channel that curved to the side, ending up broadside to the unloading platform. As soon as it had stopped, he hauled up on a huge wooden lever – the brakes, I assumed – and stood up, heading down the stairs into the passenger compartment, giving each of us a quick nod as he went. On the platform, a few teamsters stood up from where they'd been lounging around and hurried to swing a bridge made of wood and ropes into place at the rear of the cart.

"Alright, let's go," Rifle said, standing up and glancing toward the platform. Instead of waiting for the bridge to be in place, he took a few quick steps and then jumped the six-foot gap to land on the platform directly. I followed, and Shadow Stalker used her power to do much the same. Rune was a bit behind us, floating down on a crate she'd covered in runes.

"Ah, right," Rifle said, snapping his fingers and turning to me and Shadow Stalker. "I talked to Rune, and we'll be bringing more significant supplies this time."

"Good plan," I said, eying the crate. It was easily five feet to a side, and moved heavily. "Brought a lot, though."

"The Protectorate is covering the cost," he said, walking forward, head tracking to find the right door to exit through. "Chevalier already cleared it all with administration."

"Thrilling," Shadow Stalker said, deadpan. Rifle ignored her and kept walking.

We left the station much the way I'd entered it, more than a week ago, except instead of the crowded civilian section we left through the nearly empty Protectorate section. Despite New York boasting almost fifty hunting teams, we only saw one, made up of three guys and a girl around our age. I only recognized one. Jouster, who'd been in the junior Protectorate since before I'd even come to the city. I gave him a jaunty wave as we passed, and he looked me up and down, then nodded carefully.

"I wonder if our reputation precedes us?" I mused, after we'd turned a corner.

"Probably," Rifle said. "The initiative that brought us in isn't universally popular. Some people think it's too risky, or not cost effective, and others think it betrays what it means to be a hero. I think that's mostly hold-over from a time before the portals, though."

I grunted, but didn't say anything. I mostly agreed with him.

After leaving the station we descended below street level, to the subways. Unlike in Philadelphia, they were directly connected to the stations. A consequence of the nexus. Seven portals spread out over a third of the city, on several different islands as well as the mainland, made having a quick, effective connection between them a big deal. There was even a Protectorate-only line.

"Think you two can control yourselves this time?" Rune asked, glancing at Shadow Stalker as we boarded the otherwise empty subway car. "I mean, it's gonna be a whole five minutes until we get to the next station."

"Go fuck yourself off a cliff," Shadow Stalker said, grabbing my collar and dragging me with her, toward the far end of the car. It wasn't exactly private, but I wasn't about to complain.

She pushed me down into the seat, then straddled me, pulling her mask off and hooking it onto her belt. I slid my arms around her back, under her cloak, and drew her closer, grinning.

"If I knew that spiting Rune would get this kind of reaction, I'd have done it days ago," I told her.

She leaned in, her lips right by my ear. "If I knew it would piss her off this much, I'd have invited you back to her room, instead of mine," she whispered, close enough that I could feel her breath.

"Kinky," I said, then grunted as she punched me in the gut. "Are those brass knuckles?"

"I was saving them for a special occasion," she said, pulling her arm back. "Consider it an honor."

She leaned in to kiss me before I could say anything else, and the rest of the ride passed in a blur.

When we disembarked at the desert station, halfway across the city, Rune was scowling, Shadow Stalker was almost certainly smirking under her mask, and I couldn't help but smile.

"This way," Rifle said, raising his voice to cut off anything anyone else might have said. "We'll be taking a cart out to the last known location of the target, and from there we'll go on foot."

"What are we hunting this time?" I asked. "And before you complain, consider this. Why would I read the mission briefing when I have you around?"

"Your trust is flattering," Rifle said. "Irritating, but flattering, and it would be more irritating if I hadn't expected it."

"You know me so well," I said.

"You don't hide much," he said, pointing the way, then leading us through the desert portal station. It was more or less the same as the one leading to the forest and hills, with the exception of actual doors in the hallway leading to the portal, and more obvious air-conditioning. "In any case, we won't be fighting a wyvern this time. We're being tasked to go after a daimyo hermitaur. A carapaceon monster, the alpha variant of the common hermitaur."

"Sounds Japanese," I said.

He nodded. "Most carapaceons made their initial appearances in Asia," he said. "Primarily Japan. Most of their names come from there, or China. Anyway, a hermitaur is like an enormous, four-hundred-pound crab. Very tough shell, very sharp claws. They burrow easily, and can surprise you if you're not expecting it. Not very bright, though. About the intelligence of an Earth-crab, which is to say basically zero."

"And the daimyo one is, what? Bigger? Smarter?" I asked.

"Bigger," he said. "Much, much bigger. A normal hermitaur comes up to here, maybe," he said, holding his hand up at shoulder height. "A daimyo can reach upwards of twenty feet high, and thirty long. Some have weighed in at over eighteen tons, including the shell. Hopefully our target won't be one of them."

"So, we're expecting something tough, then," I said, tapping my finger against my lip. "Shell, claws, carapace, et-cet-er-a. Any weaknesses?"

"The underbelly," he said. "It's where the legs, claws, and tail join the body. The tail, by the way, is much like a hermit crab's, thus the name. It lets it pick up environmental objects to use as their shell."

"Good to know," I said.

"Apparently the tail is fairly vulnerable as well," he added. "Thinner, weaker chitin. But the shell can be virtually anything, so it's random chance if we can make use of that."

I turned to Shadow Stalker. "Phase your bolts through?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see."

We quickly passed through the Protectorate-only waiting room, which was much bigger than the one in Philadelphia. More of a suite, with a dozen couches and doors leading to a bathroom and a full kitchen. There were two teams lounging there, and we got nods and waves, which Rifle returned with a serious expression. Nobody said anything, though, and we didn't stop to chat.

The other side of the portal was notably hotter, and the stone of the fortress wasn't the gray I was familiar with, but a lighter color, almost tan. It was cut smoother too, and the walls were thicker. But other than that, the design of the place was similar. We emerged from the corridors off to the side of the civilian bays, in an area cordoned off with thick ropes and warning signs.

"There's our ride," Rifle said, pointing to one of three carts that sat ready in their own section. They were smaller than the civilian ones and still drawn by aptonoths, though these ones had huge blankets draped over them.

We made our way to the cart, and Rifle stepped over to talk to the driver, who was swathed in a robe of the same color as the aptonoth's blanket. I ignored them, hopping in to examine the cart itself. It was wood and metal, unsurprisingly, and the interior was split into two sections. The forward one was fairly spacious, with four seats. For us, obviously. The rear section was empty, with a number of wooden posts and leather straps, clearly meant to hold cargo. Rune deposited our crate of supplies there, strapping it down for the trip. It looked a bit pathetic, sitting there alone.

"I can't help but feel we're going in a bit under-equipped," I said, glancing around the nearly empty space.

"Well, we're gonna be close to the station," Shadow Stalker said. "Some hunts are pretty far away, and some can take days. Or longer, I hear. Dunno if that's true."

I glanced up, but Rifle was still talking to the driver and hadn't heard us.

"Guess we'll never know," I said, and she snorted out a quick laugh. Rune just finished her work, then silently joined Rifle, standing close to him and not looking at us.

"Such a child," Shadow Stalker murmured, staring after her with her hands on her hips. Rune flipped her the bird.

"A thought," I said, looking around. "Do we have water?"

"I think so," Shadow Stalker said, walking over to the back of the cart and looking out. "Yeah, there," she said, pointing to some huge wooden barrels. "Lots, I guess. If those are full, anyway."

"Normally I'd leave this to Rifle, but I kinda don't want to die of thirst," I said, walking over to stand beside her. The barrels were connected to the cart with woven straps, and they had spiggots on the ends. I leaned out and pushed at one. It made a sloshing sound, and I nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright, get ready!" Rifle shouted to us. "We're heading out!"

"Cool!" I shouted back.

"Are you two going to join us, this time?" Rifle called out, moving to take a seat in the passenger section. "We should probably discuss strategy."

"What do you think?" Shadow Stalker said, raising her voice over the creaking of wood and leather as the cart started to move.

"Never-" Rifle said, then paused as Shadow Stalker pulled at a knot, letting a curtain fall between the two compartments. "-mind," he finished.

* * *

We hopped off the cart a few highly enjoyable hours later, as it pulled into a small, stone canyon. The heat had risen during the trip, in more ways than one, and I'd removed most of my armor, leaving me with just my helmet and pants, my chest bare. Shadow Stalker had ditched her cloak during the ride, but she was already wearing it again, giving no sign of whether the heat was affecting her or not.

I chose to put off getting my gear on again, leaving it slung over my shoulder, wrapped in the under-shirt and tied into a bundle with the belt sash. I looked around, taking in our location. The stone of the canyon walls was the same tan color as the fortress had been, but even smoother, as if carved by a river some time in the past. There were a few ragged tents off to the side, looking to be made out of huge bones and stretched, yellow hide. A dusty well sat in the middle of some dead, blackened trees, and I walked over to it. I tossed a stone down. It rattled against the walls, then hit the bottom with a clatter, rather than a splash.

"God, it's hot," Rune complained, fanning herself with her hand. Sweat was dripping off her, as it was me, and Rifle. She pulled out a water bottle and took a long drink, then stowed it in her robe.

"It'll be worse when we get out into the actual desert," Rifle said. "At least we're in the shade here."

"Couldn't we have done this at night?" Shadow Stalker complained. She'd been pacing around like I was, examining the area, and now she stood in the shadow of the cart, hands on hips.

"Night's just as bad, but in the other direction," Rifle said. "It can hit ten below zero, easily, and the wind is brutal."

"That might be easier, for me," I said. "Cold doesn't hit me that hard, with my power."

"Well it hits me," Rifle countered. "This is a matter of choosing between two evils, but they're each just as bad as the other, so I chose the one that would get us here and done quicker."

"Can't argue with that," Shadow Stalker said. "So, in the interests of getting the fuck out of this shit-hole as fast as possible, let's get moving."

Rifle gestured off to the side, toward the end of the canyon. I could see more light there, coming from the open desert. "After you," he said.

Shadow Stalker walked off, and the rest of us followed. Fairly quickly the walls of the canyon came together, then lowered, and eventually gave way to a huge, rippling expanse of sand. The sun was high, though not quite directly overhead, and as soon as I left the shadow of the canyon walls it hit me like an avalanche of heat, right to the top of my head.

"Jesus' sweaty _dick_ it's hot here!" I said, wiping at my face, where sweat was already streaming down my chin. I could feel it on my forehead and scalp, too, under my helmet. Something that could become a problem, potentially. I hadn't even put my armor back on yet.

"There's cooler areas," Rifle said. "Caves, other canyons, some waterways. It's all on the map."

"Is our target likely to be near those?" I asked.

"It is, actually," he confirmed. "It's a crab. It likes to be near water."

"Thank fuck," Shadow Stalker said. "I'm fucking dying here."

We set off, and I soon realized we had more problems than just the heat. The sand slid under my shoes, constantly shifting, and a heat-haze hid everything more than thirty feet away. It was only a few minutes before the entrance to the canyon was an indistinct blur behind us. Without Rifle, we would have been screwed. He consulted the map constantly, holding it out flat with a compass on top of it, and he surveyed the horizon from the top of every dune. I had no idea what his enhanced vision made of the mess of wavering haze all around us, and I didn't ask. But he seemed confident, leading us without any hesitation.

Shadow Stalker started out by using her power to range out around our line of advance, as she had before, but quickly gave it up, joining back up with us and taking steady drinks from her water bottle. Rune started out hovering along on the crate of supplies, skimming just above the sand, but she gave that up within minutes to walk along beside Rifle, the crate above their heads to give them some shade.

Of all of us, I was doing the best, and even for me it was hell. I carried my armor over my shoulder for a while, but after we saw movement on what could potentially be called the horizon, I started putting it back on. Whatever it was didn't come any closer, but I had no interest in being caught with my pants down.

"This place..." Shadow Stalker said, her voice hoarse, then broke off in a cough. She took her bottle out, took a pull off it. "Fuuuuuck, it's hot. This place is dead. How does anything live here?"

"Nothing does, at least not in the open desert," Rifle said. His voice was even hoarser, and he hadn't been drinking as much. His face, what I could see of it below his goggles, was red, and sweat dripped constantly from his chin. "Some monsters come to the desert to sleep or to avoid predators, but they hunt in the canyons."

I was about to comment, but something caught my eye. "Hang on," I said.

"What?" Rifle asked, glaring at me and holding up his water bottle. "In case you didn't notice, we're on a timer here."

"Just wait," I said, sliding down a dune, into a little hollow. I knelt down, staring at the sandy ground. A cluster of plants grew there, and I'd seen them before. Fat, green leaves growing from a lumpy stalk, mostly buried in the sand. I leaned in to sniff them. Distinctive scent, though I couldn't quite describe it. I pulled out my knife, carefully digging up a stem, severing the roots, my power doing most of the work in telling me what to cut.

I trotted back up the dune, plant in hand, and held it out toward Rifle. "I saw these before, in the forest," I told him. "Any idea what it is?"

He leaned in, squinting slightly behind his goggles. "It's... some kind of medicinal herb," he said. "The name escapes me. The juices can act as coagulants, and a strong anti-inflammatory. The stem contains analgesic chemicals. In its natural state it's all too concentrated, though. Toxic. Even eating one leaf can kill you. Makes your blood thicker, while also opening up the blood vessels and increasing your heart rate, leading to near-instant clotting, heart attack, or embolism."

I looked down at it. Some of the juices were already running down my gauntlet. My eyes traced them as they ran over the spiky carapace and dripped onto the sand. "My power's poking at me," I told him. "I'm gonna keep it."

"Do as you please," he told me, turning away and continuing his march. "Just be careful."

I nodded, thumbing open a pouch and stashing the plant, then followed him.

We continued through the desert for over an hour, Rifle leading the way, all of us stuck in miserable silence. Rune ran through her first water bottle quickly, and tossed it onto the sand rather than carry the extra weight. Rifle passed her another, and she just took it, too drained to even thank him.

When more of the yellow, striated rock came into sight ahead of us, I nearly burst into song, and if Rifle hadn't keep to the same plodding, deliberate pace, I would have raced for them. But it was nearly fifteen more minutes of walking before I could make out the entrance to another canyon, and even longer before we finally found ourselves once again in the shade.

As soon as we were out of the sun, Shadow Stalker collapsed in a heap against a rocky outcrop. She pulled out a water bottle and drained the entire thing, then fell back, panting.

"Fuck shitting fuckedy fuck," she said. "I never wanna do that again, I swear to fucking god."

"Did you make the whole trip without drinking?" Rifle asked.

"She drank a bit," I said.

"I kinda like that you noticed," she said, pointing the empty bottle toward me.

"Do not start making out in the middle of the desert," Rifle grit out. "If you do, I'll fucking-"

"Don't worry about it," Shadow Stalker said, waving away his concern. "Even if Hunter was up for it-"

"I am," I said.

"-I'm not," she finished. She forced herself to her feet, leaving a damp imprint of her body against the rock. "I want this done as quick as possible, so we can get back to Philly and I can take a fucking shower. Alone," she added, pointing at me before I could even open my mouth. "Don't push it. We're not there yet."

"I can accept that sentiment," Rifle said, glancing around. "The shower part, at least. Are we ready to continue?"

"I'm fine," I said, flexing an arm in his direction. "I could keep this up all day. Not even tired."

"Noted," he said, frowning at me. "Very much noted. You might regret telling me that, soon enough. How do you feel about scouting?"

"I'm up for it, but I'm not sure it's necessary. You said the damned hermit crab-"

"Daimyo hermitaur," he corrected. "I'm in no mood to joke."

"Fine," I said. "It was lame anyway. You said it likes water, right? Because I'm smelling some." I pointed down the canyon. "That'a'way."

He let out a quick breath through his nose. "Good. Great. Lead on."

I did, setting off down the canyon, and the others followed. Rune was almost stumbling, but both Rifle and Shadow Stalker seemed fresh enough. From the way Rifle was acting, though, I thought it might have been a front. The way he'd reacted to the mention of water, he'd been relieved, and not just a bit.

The canyon itself was narrow, though it opened up wider a few times, and it seemed to only go one way. No branching paths. As we went, I pulled the herb I'd picked out of my pouch, looking it over. There was something about it, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

It reminded me of the feeling I'd had when Gunner had given me the materials for that impossible teleportation bomb. How obvious it had been what to do with them. I was on the verge of that now, and it was like having a word stuck on the tip of my tongue. It was irritating as hell, but thrilling too. An element of my power I hadn't known about until now, if I could just figure it out.

As we went, the smell of water got stronger, and I put the herb away, quickening the pace. Rune had gone back to flying on top of the supply crate, and both Rifle and Shadow Stalker were showing more energy now, so close to our goal.

The canyon ended in an open area, surrounded by high cliffs, and the heat wasn't nearly as oppressive as it had been in the open desert, even beyond the shadow of the walls. I could see clear across to the other side, where the cliffs were pierced by more canyons, and maybe a cave entrance. What interested me more, however, was closer than that, off to the side. A huge rent in the cliff-wall that led to what looked like a river, cutting deep into the terrain, and whatever had knocked down the cliff had created something of an inlet, a pool of water that was calmer than the river it branched off from.

It was, I had to admit, almost ludicrously enticing. The brutal sun glittered off the pool as if it were made of diamonds, and I'd rarely wanted anything in my life more than I wanted it.

I started off toward the water, feet crunching on the ground, dodging around cacti and pillars of stone that stood up out of the sand, but both Rune and Shadow Stalker were faster, using their powers to advance on the glittering prize as quickly as they could.

They arrived at the pool in a dead heat, Rune landing her crate and stumbling off it, Shadow Stalker phasing back into solidity just feet away from the pool.

I barely noticed the ground start to rumble.

"Stalker!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, speeding up, pulling my sword free.

She reacted instantly, diving to the side, tackling Rune and pushing her away just as a bone-white spear thrust up out of the ground where she'd been, towering fifteen feet into the sky. A fraction of a second later, and Rune would have been dead.

Whatever was down there, it didn't stop with just the jagged pillar. The ground shook harder and sand billowed upward, something underground coming up with violent force, sending both girls flying. They tumbled through the air, hitting the sand almost ten feet away, in different directions. Rune rolled to a stop and sprung up, sprinting to put more distance between herself and whatever it was. Shadow Stalker was slower. She sat up and put a hand to her head, shaking it, and didn't stand.

Then, as the sand began to clear, I saw what we were up against. The spear was an enormous horn, straight, thinning out down its length toward a wicked tip. Ahead of it was a beak, and behind it, up the nose, past the deep, shadowed eyes, was a wide, frilled shield of bone-like armor.

It was a head. A twenty-foot-long head.

"Oh god," Rifle whispered, stumbling to a stop beside me, eyes wide. His voice rose. "It's a monoblos! We have to run!"

"No, look!" I said, pointing at it as it continued to rise. The eye sockets were empty, there was no lower jaw, and the frill wasn't bone-like. It was bone. "It's dead! It's just a skull!"

"What- Oh!" Rifle said, slinging his gun into his hands, inserting shells.

He didn't continue, but I realized the same thing in the next second as segmented legs folded out from under the skull, scrabbling at the sand, filling in the hole it had emerged from as it struggled for grip. Claws followed, and feelers poked up from behind the skull.

The daimyo hermitaur spun around to face us, putting its monoblos-skull shell behind it. It waved huge red-and-white banded claws in the air, mandibles working, feelers waving. Despite the attack it had just performed, it didn't seem to be able to see us.

"Get Shadow Stalker," Rifle said, pumping his gun and chambering a shell. "I'll hold its attention."

"Got it," I said, crouching down for a moment, judging the distance.

Rifle fired his first shot just as I burst into motion, and the monster screamed. Chittering, clacking its mandibles, it advanced, huge legs pounding against the sand, rushing us.

We were two people down before landing the first attack, we were exhausted, drained from the desert, and we'd been hit by surprise. But it didn't matter. The fight was on.


	10. The Giant Enemy Crab

**Chapter Ten: The Giant Enemy Crab**

"Son of a bitch!"

I ducked under a swift swipe of a claw, or at least tried to. It came in fast, without warning, and I wasn't quick enough. The enormous slab of white-striped red chitin – it was easily bigger than I was – lashed out and knocked me off my feet, sending me rolling along the ground.

More flash-bangs came in, battering the monster's head, bursting in a cacophony that made my ears ring and my head ache even from ten feet away, but the huge crab didn't seem remotely bothered. It shuffled in place, feelers questing out, turning from me to Rifle, before finally settling on me again. It turned in place, a complicated maneuver with so many legs, and began scuttling toward me, claws held up and out, pincers clacking.

"Shit!" I scrambled to my feet and backed away, shield held out defensively for all the good it would do. "I thought you said you'd keep its attention!"

"I'm trying!" Rifle shouted, unloading another barrage at it. His shots slammed into the legs, claws, and shell. Given the angle, its head would be out of his line of sight, covered by the huge frill of the skull it was wearing. Chitin and bone chipped away with each hit, but nothing more, and it kept advancing.

"Go for the joints!" I shouted as the claws came in again. Again, it was fast. No windup between the claws being still and them swinging at me. Easily as fast as the kut-ku or garuga's attacks, for all that the crab had to outweigh them many times over. I hopped away from a swipe, ducked another, and took a third on the shield, stumbling back. It was relentless, though, attacking almost mindlessly, without any hint of thought or strategy.

I ducked down, holding my shield above me, bracing. The claws pounded down on me, sending clouds of sand into the air with every strike.

Shockingly, I held. For all its size, and for all the speed with which it could move its claws, there was less force behind them than I'd thought. Either it was weaker than it looked, or for some reason it wasn't hitting as hard as it was able.

The steady pounding on my shield faltered, then stopped, and I could hear the crab chittering louder, its legs working, sending little shockwaves through the ground every time they came down.

"Good call on the joints!" Rifle called. "Just had to keep it still for a minute!"

"Yeah, great!" I answered, forcing myself to my feet. The daimyo hermitaur was moving away, leaving the enormous skull-shell facing me, like a second head. One of its legs was leaking purple fluid from the joint, presumably from where Rifle had hit it, though it didn't seem to have slowed it down at all.

Rifle himself was moving away, pacing the crab, keeping the distance between them steady as he loaded his shotgun, eyes flicking down to his bandolier, carefully choosing his ammo.

I assumed he knew what he was doing, so I left him to it, turning to sprint toward Shadow Stalker.

She was still on the ground when I reached her, and she was in bad shape. It was hard to tell through her concealing costume, and none of her limbs were twisted or broken, but the way she moved said everything. Her head wobbled as she looked up at me, and her hands were shaking. I was no kind of doctor – I'd never even done first aid – but I could tell that wasn't good. That kind of impact...

"Power- Power didn't work," she slurred, her voice rough and cracking. "Couldn't phase through it."

Hearing her voice like that, something clenched tight in my chest. I reached for her, ready to pick her up and carry her back to the cart, then froze. Could I do it? Forget just escaping the monster, would Shadow Stalker be alright for the hours-long trek back to the cart, through the blazing desert, then more hours as it returned to the portal?

My breathing sped up, and I froze, hands inches away from her.

I had no idea what to do.

Behind me, I could hear the hermitaur pounding the ground with its claws, and a rapid crack-crack-crack as Rifle shot it. He didn't have my stamina, or any kind of enhanced speed. He was good, seriously skilled, but he wasn't going to be able to keep up the pace forever. Sooner or later the monster would be headed back toward me.

My hands started to shake, and then it was like a switch got flipped in my head. Like a rail-line, my thoughts switched from one track to another in an instant, and something that had been poking at me for hours suddenly came into focus.

I dropped my sword to the sandy ground and started furiously searching through the pouches of my armor. Even before I had any idea what I was doing, I knew what I needed. First-aid kit and half-full water bottle were obvious. I unscrewed the cap of the bottle and rammed it into the sand, twisting it around to dig it in, keep it upright, then virtually tore open the first-aid kit. I discarded most of the contents, ending up with a handful of tubes – the contents of which I was only vaguely familiar with – and a rolled bandage.

The herb I'd picked earlier was next to hand, and I shoved it into my mouth, tearing off hasty but precise amounts of the leaves, stem, and roots. I chewed them up, then tilted my head back and squirted part of one of the tubes into my mouth, gagging on the flavor. I kept chewing for a moment, then unrolled the bandage and spit the greenish gray, pulpy mass into it. I wrapped the bandage around it, then squeezed it into the water bottle, straining the mixture, keeping the waste out.

 _One more step._

I worked my mouth silently, trying to get rid of the taste as I fished out the last necessary component. The mushroom I'd picked while tracking down the kut-ku. This part was easier. It was already dried, a consequence of sitting in my pouch for most of a week. I tore off about half the crown and crumbled it in my hand, squeezing a few judicious drops from several of the tubes of medicine into the mix as I did.

Timing was critical, here.

Once the mushroom paste was the right consistency, I rolled it out between my hands, then fed the resulting strip into the water bottle. Temperature control would have been good, but I didn't have the means. I just had to hope the ambient temperature was high enough.

I lifted the bottle out of the sand and swirled the mixture of water, herb, mushroom, and medicine around, holding it away from my face to avoid the fumes. Then I screwed on the cap, gave it four hard shakes up and down, and unscrewed it again.

At some point while I'd been working, Shadow Stalker had lain back – or fallen back – onto the ground, and she was still sprawled there. "Here," I said, holding the bottle toward her. "Drink."

"I just saw you-" she paused. Her voice was, if anything, weaker than it had been. More shaky. "Saw you chew that shit up, and spit it into the thing. That's gross."

"We've shared more than enough spit at this point," I told her, thrusting the bottle at her again. "What's a little more?"

She eyed the bottle. "That- That looked like some tinker shit. What's it gonna do?"

"Not sure," I said, jiggling the bottle. "Drink."

The ground shook behind us, and we both flinched. The monster chittered loudly, mouthparts clacking, and hammered the ground with its pincers.

"Whatever," she said, then reached out for the bottle. Her hand shook, and she fumbled, her fingers glancing off without grabbing hold.

"Fuck!" I swore. I leaned forward, pulling her mask away from her face, and she didn't protest. The inside was slick with blood, and I could see more dripping down, coming from her scalp. Either cut by the edge of the mask, or...

I stopped that train of thought cold, reaching down to hold her chin with one hand while I poured with the other. The fluid that came out of the bottle was bright green, like fresh grass, and as thick as melted ice cream. Her throat worked, swallowing, and then she choked, batting me away.

"Gah," she said. "That tastes like raw-" She stopped, convulsing, her jaw clamping down and the muscles in her throat standing out. She curled up, limbs stiff and shaking, then her back arched, something between a groan and a scream working its way out from behind her teeth.

She stayed like that for a moment, whole body tight as a spring, while I watched with wide eyes, the fight forgotten.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. From the time the first drop hit her lips to the time she slumped limply to the ground couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. I barely had time to worry that something had gone horribly wrong, that I'd made whatever injuries she'd sustained worse, before she was up again, hand grasping at my collar, not even the least bit shaky.

"That fucking hurt!" she said. "Motherfucker! What was that?!"

"No idea," I said. "Healing, I think? It probably would have worked better on me. Or hurt less, anyway."

She paused, then let me go and stood up in one fluid motion, eyes flicking toward the ongoing fight. She stretched quickly, then patted her head, her shoulder, and her chest.

"Fuck, you're right," she said. "I feel fine."

I stood as well, screwing the cap back onto the bottle, stowing it, and picking up my sword. I left the remains of the first aid kit where they were.

"Just a warning, but it's probably conditional," I said. "Most stuff my power does is, one way or another."

"Noted," she said. "So, what's the plan?"

I followed her gaze, watching the fight. The monster was still pursuing Rifle, and from the distance it had moved, I hadn't been tinkering too long. Less than a minute, certainly. He was unhurt, and the daimyo bled its thick purple blood from a handful of new wounds, but they were obviously minor.

"No idea," I told her, glancing down at my sword. "I doubt this is sharp enough to go through its carapace, and it's sure as shit not gonna penetrate the shell. Your power didn't let you phase through it, so I doubt you'll be able to phase bolts very deep."

"We won't know until we try," she said, then pushed my shoulder. "That means you too. Get in there."

I started jogging toward the fight. Rifle took note of me, flicking his eyes in my direction for a moment, but didn't take his attention away from the monster.

I came in low, and the hermitaur didn't notice me until I was on it, too intent on pursuing Rifle. I sped past the skull-shell, keeping my steps as light as I could, then jumped. I brought my blade down on a leg, going for a joint, but the way it was moving that wasn't possible. I hit the leg itself, and my blade bit in with the sound of crunching chitin, but that was all. No blood flowed, and the monster didn't even slow down.

 _Well, if it's just gonna ignore me..._

I matched my pace to it, moving with it, my shield-hand held to its shell, feeling its movements as I tried to stay out from under its pounding feet. Rifle had said the underbelly was its weakness, and if it ignored me long enough, I might have a chance to hit it.

It wasn't going to be easy, though. Despite its size, the underbelly was still only a few feet from the ground, the enormous legs arching up to well above head-height before bending down again.

Black streaks came in from behind me, punching into the shell and the claw. Shadow Stalker. They sank in, but not far. Only inches each, and the daimyo didn't seem to notice.

Rifle added his support too, seemingly figuring out my goal. He stopped and braced himself, letting the monster come, and unloaded on it, but his attacks had no more effect than Shadow Stalker's had.

I took the chance anyway, swinging under the legs as they steadily pumped up and down, pistonlike. The underbelly was a virtual mess of interlocking chitin, moving and flexing, with only tiny spaces between the plates, visible for moments at a time as the limbs stretched, then retracted. I swung and stabbed, chipping away, and the plates were definitely thinner there, but not thin enough. I barely did any damage before having to catch my balance and stumble away.

The crab kept going.

"Damn it!" Rifle shouted, lowering his shotgun and spinning around, sprinting away.

The monster really was stupid, and normally I would have counted that as a serious advantage. But coupled with its sheer toughness, that stupidity just ended up being single-mindedness. Forcibly charging after an opponent was a good strategy if they couldn't hurt you.

My thoughts were interrupted as the crab slowed to a stop, its feelers waving above its head. They were long, as long as the legs, and I was just beginning to wonder what it sensed when it suddenly burst into motion, walking sideways, directly at me.

It raised a pincer and swiped it down at me before I could even get my shield up, the motion a blur. It hit me low in the chest, at the bottom of my ribcage, and I hit the ground hard enough to bounce. That, in the end, was probably what saved me, because the follow-up strike with the same claw whiffed badly.

I climbed back to my feet, backing away as it advanced, still broadside to me, though that didn't seem to limit its speed at all. I blocked another swipe, stiffening my knees and staying upright, countering with a slash at its elbow joint. For once it bit in deeply, drawing blood, and the monster hissed and clattered its mandibles, stopping in place.

It sank down and drew its claws in toward its body. They locked together almost like a shield, covering its front and sides, leaving only its head visible, though it was so far back that I'd have to actively climb over the claws to be in range of it, and I didn't think the monster was planning to sit still long enough to allow that.

More bullets and bolts came in, slower now, probing for a weakness that wasn't there. The crab ignored them, feelers waving.

"What the hell are we supposed to do here?!" I shouted, partly serious, partly just out of annoyance.

"This!" Rune shouted from above us. An enormous rock plummeted down, smashing into the hermitaur's shell, crushing the creature to the ground with the sound of cracking bone.

"Were you waiting for someone to ask that?!" I shouted up at her.

She grinned, hovering atop another rock, with another half-dozen floating around her. "No, you've just got good timing!" she shouted back.

A grinding noise drew my attention back to the monster. Despite the fact that the rock had to be over a ton, it got up without effort, legs unfolding from beneath it with no more difficulty than when it had first crawled out of the ground. Flakes of bone showered off it as the rock slid down its shell, but that was it.

"Whu-" I started, but that was all the time I had before the rock exploded.

The shockwave hit me harder than the monster had, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me away in a sandstorm of dust and grit. I tumbled, bounced repeatedly, and completely lost track of myself, stopping with a splash of water frigid enough to send a shock up my spine.

I tried to breathe, choked, and realized I was underwater, sinking. My armor and gear were too heavy. I tried to swim upward, but my sense of direction was fucked, and I found myself colliding with the bottom instead. I scrabbled against the rock, flipped myself over, then kicked off, swimming with all my might.

I breached the surface with a gasp, ears ringing, blinking against a huge patch of purple in the middle of my vision. I could barely see the shore, and I made for it, climbing out of the pool to see the crab sprawled on the ground, skull-shell cracked and bleeding thick black smoke into the air. The horn, which it had used to attack Shadow Stalker and Rune, was half its length, broken, though the tip was still jagged and dangerous-looking.

My vision and hearing recovered quickly, and I could hear Rune cackling from her mount, fifty feet above ground.

"How'd you like that, bitch!" she shouted, standing up and flipping the downed monster the bird. "You ain't shit! I blew you the _fuck_ up!"

I stumbled to my feet, water streaming off my armor, and shook my head, clearing it of the last lingering effects of the explosion.

It wasn't just the monster. The sand around it had been scorched black, and shards of the rock Rune had dropped were embedded everywhere, like shrapnel.

"What the hell was that?!" I called up at her, approaching the hermitaur carefully. It wasn't moving.

"That was a hundred and fifty pounds of C4!" she replied. She threw her arms up with a whoop, then staggered, crouched quickly and grabbed on as her rock wavered.

"You brought high explosives!?" I asked.

"Hell yeah!" she replied, laughing breathlessly. "I told you we came prepared!"

"Rifle said that!" I replied. "Or something like it! Not you!"

"Same difference!" she said.

"You know you could have fucking killed me!?" I shouted.

"You're tough!" she shouted back. "Besides, that was fucking awesome!"

I had to agree with that. It wasn't how I would have gone about killing a monster, but it had been pretty sweet.

Ahead of me, one of the feelers twitched, and I jumped back.

"You're kidding," I said, as the crab once again climbed to its feet. Purple blood spurted out of the gaping cracks in the shell, and one of its legs was limp, dragging on the ground, but it didn't seem any slower than before.

"No way!" Rune shouted, echoing my sentiment, if not my exact words.

"Hit it again!" Rifle called, his voice faint with distance. I glanced in his direction, but he'd taken refuge a few hundred feet away, crouching down behind one of the rock pillars that dotted the area. He, at least, had probably known what was coming, and acted accordingly.

"I can't!" Rune replied. "That was all the C4!"

"Just drop another rock, then!" he shouted. "Anything! Don't let it get its balance!"

That, I decided, was good advice. I hadn't done much damage yet, but it was hurt now. Its armor was cracked. That had to be worth something.

I charged in as Rune dropped another rock, the runes covering it flashing for a moment before disappearing. It hit the monstrous crab like the first one had, pounding into its shell and driving it back to the ground. Its legs flailed, gaining purchase, and once again it shrugged off the attack, climbing to its feet.

It lashed out at me with a claw as I came in, just as quick as before, and I caught it on my shield, my rush turning into a backward slide as I fought to keep my feet. I powered through, crouching down and stepping in as hard as I could, weathering another attack, then coming in below the claws, right in its face.

Up close, it was ugly. The head was small, set into a thick armor plate just below the frilled lip of the skull-shell, with no neck. Its mandibles formed a jagged circle, like a puckered asshole made of chitin, and the eyes were right above it, faceted but small and beady. The feelers emerged from between the mouth and eyes, like a huge mustache, twitching and waving with grotesque motion.

I slashed at one of the feelers, chopped it off, then went for the eyes, stabbing. It didn't have any eyelids, and I was inside its guard now. The claws could only press me in closer, and I was fine with that. I braced myself, ready to feel the crushing pressure from behind, sure that I could take it.

Its attack took a form I hadn't expected. Foam bubbled from its asshole of a mouth for an instant before erupting in a geyser. It hit me dead-on, throwing me off, the pressure enough that my ribs creaked and my armor cracked.

I hit the ground and slid, fast and hard enough that the spikes on my armor screeched against the rock, a cloud of sand left in my wake. Thankfully I didn't actually tumble this time. Unfortunately it left me directly in front of the monster as it advanced, barely slowed by another, smaller rock dropped from above.

"Hunter!" Shadow Stalker cried out, coming to a stop beside me and grabbing my arm, trying to haul me away.

"I'm fine!" I assured her, scrambling to my feet again. It was true, I realized. My chest hurt, and I was sure I'd have an impressive set of bruises in the morning, but that was it.

"Bullshit!" she insisted, pulling at me, and I went with her, jogging away from the monster, circling around. It was fast in a straight line, but it had to stop in order to turn, and couldn't seem to move diagonally. Just forward or sideways. I guess Shadow Stalker had realized it as well.

After a moment she let go, and I ran beside her. She turned to me, looking me up and down. "How the hell did you take a hit like that?" she asked. "What the hell?"

I rapped my breastplate, causing a flake of the kut-ku's carapace to fall to the sand. "Good armor, I guess," I said.

She eyed me skeptically. "We should think about pulling out," she said. "This isn't something we can kill."

I stumbled, then caught myself and kept running. "You're willing to give up in the middle of a fight?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

"Nothing wrong with a tactical retreat," she snapped. "Better than getting killed by something out of your league. Don't be a retard, Hunter. We should go."

"To hell with that," I spat. "This thing pissed me off. I want it dead."

I broke off from her, ignoring her shouted objections, and headed for the monster again.

Of course, having said that, I had no kind of plan. The front and sides were both dangerous. Its strikes were too fast, and that water canon – I refused to think of it as a spit-gun, or worse, a vomit-launcher – had hit me hard, despite what I'd told Shadow Stalker. Worse, even when I did close with it, my sword wasn't sharp enough to do any real damage. I might be able to hurt it over time, bleed it out, but I had no idea how long that would take, and it could easily be me that lost the battle of attrition, rather than the monster.

Worse, I had no illusions that the others would be able to avoid more injuries as the fight went on, and they weren't anywhere close to as tough as I was.

Without a better idea, I angled in behind it as it turned in place, single feeler questing out, trying to find a target. My eyes roved over the shell, searching, looking for the spot that had bled, earlier. It wasn't hard to see. A space near one of the skull's eye sockets had cracked away, leaving the red carapace underneath visible. Better, the carapace was rent open, a gaping crack over a foot long, wet with purple blood.

Whatever she thought of my rush, Shadow Stalker still provided support, circling around in shadow-form, wispy, her crossbows spitting bolts at any injury or weakness. They hit in the joints, beneath the edge of the shell, and on the face. From the sound of gunfire, Rifle was hard at work too, though I knew that the best they could do was act as a distraction.

I clambered up the shell, grabbing at it with my shield-hand, scrambling for the site of the injury. It wasn't easy. The crab was in motion again, though I couldn't see where it was headed with the frill in the way, and the shell wobbled drunkenly, almost enough to shake me off.

I made it, hooking my arm into the edge of the crack and plunging my sword deep into the monster, again and again, working it around, leveraging the wound wider, searching for something vital inside.

That got a reaction, but not the one I'd expected. An intelligent creature might have reacted to remove the threat. It might have tried to shake me off, and given how hard it was to stay on when all it was doing was walking, it probably would have succeeded. I'd been expecting that, willing to roll with it and try again later.

Instead, the enormous crab _hissed,_ rising up high on its leg and opening its claws wide in a display of what would be – for another creature – anger or threat, before crouching down, claws planted flat against the ground.

I braced myself, digging my blade into the wound, but I wasn't remotely ready for what came next.

The crab surged upward, all its limbs – legs and claws – springing straight in an instant, sending it hurling upward into the sky. A ten-ton crustacean, jumping better than anything I'd ever seen.

 _Of course_ , I thought, in the tiny moment I had before the force of the leap tore my from my perch. _It would have to be that strong._

After all, it had speared up out of the ground hard enough to send two people flying. The strength needed to do that from underground would mean that doing it _above_ ground would end up with it having enormous jumping power.

Even as I realized that, flying through the air, already bracing myself for the inevitable fall, I saw its real target.

I had no idea if it had managed to somehow connect Rune to the rocks that she'd been dropping, then made the leap to assume that my own attack on its back had come from her as well, and in the end it didn't matter. Whatever the reason, she was the target, and the sluggish dodge she attempted wasn't close to quick enough to get her out of the way.

The daimyo hermitaur collided with the rock she was riding, and while it didn't explode as hard as the one that had the C4 attached, it wasn't that far off. It shattered into pieces, and Rune screamed, the sound cutting off almost instantly as she tumbled away in the midst of a shower of debris.

I hit the ground first, and sprung up just in time to be knocked off my feet as the ground quaked with the impact of the monster's landing. Rune fell last, and I knew there was no way she'd survive it. Not after an attack like that, not from that height.

She didn't hit the ground in a sprawl, though, her body breaking against rock or sand. At the last second, Shadow Stalker phased into sight, catching her, deflecting the impact into a roll, arms locked around Rune as they both tumbled across the sand. They spun dizzily, Rune's robe and Shadow Stalker's cloak billowed around them, making it impossible to tell what was actually happening.

They came to a stop a moment later in the middle of a cloud of sand. It settled onto both of them, turning their blue and black costumes a dull tan.

I took a step toward them, then turned as the earth shook. The daimyo was charging straight at me, foam bubbling around its mouth, mandibles working, chewing at nothing.

"Shit!" I swore, slewing sideways to avoid the rush. It swiped at me as it closed, pincer moving even faster than before, slicing at the air, but I was already out of reach.

I kept running, circling it, heading for its back quarter, where I figured the claws couldn't reach. It turned with me, not quick enough, and I lashed out at its legs, chopping at the joints.

It spun in place, pincers snapping, and flailed at me. I ducked and wove around it, blocking and attacking. We exchanged strikes, my sword biting into chitin, drawing blood, and its pincers hammered down, shaking the ground and nearly buckling my knees when they hit my shield. I kept circling, and it kept spinning, neither of our attacks slowing in the least.

Another water-beam spat from its mouth, but missed as it braced itself against the ground, and I dove in at the legs, sword swinging. I finally did enough damage, and it sprawled, legs spasming, shaking the ground with the impact.

It clawed and flailed, pronged feet scraping against the sand, and Shadow Stalker appeared out of nowhere, phasing into visibility right beside me.

"Hey," she said, her hand dipping into one of my pouches, coming out with the water bottle I'd mixed the medicine in earlier. She was gone as quickly as she'd arrived.

The crab kept attacking, even from the ground, a claw coming out of nowhere and back-handing me, knocking me away. I kept my feet for once, ready to spring back in, but an explosion stopped me.

It hit the claw, right at the elbow, sending chunks of carapace flying.

Rifle.

He was crouched out in the open, shoving something down the barrel of his shotgun. A short tube with a head that flared out before tapering into a cone. Once it was snug in the barrel, he leveled his gun and fired again, the object streaking toward the monster on a column of flame.

A rocket, I realized.

It hit the crab in the same place the first rocket had, the detonation sending a shockwave over the sand in every direction. Smoke and flame billowed for a moment, and when it cleared the monster was on its feet again, headed straight for me. It was hurt, though. The shell around its elbow joint was split and blackened, smeared with purple blood, and I could smell seared flesh.

I had to admit, it smelled good.

I swallowed quickly, moving cautiously to meet it. The monster shook, pounding the ground with its uninjured claw as it came, the other held close to its body like a shield. Foam sprayed from its mouth as it hissed and chittered.

Worried? Afraid? Angry? I didn't know if it was even smart enough to feel emotions like that, but I sped up anyway, sensing that we might finally have the advantage.

"That's it from me!" Rifle shouted, standing up and hurrying toward Rune. "I'm dry!"

I didn't take the time to respond, too focused on attack. I side-stepped a water jet on the way in, then grabbed the injured claw, using the leverage to turn my forward momentum into a spin, aiming for the elbow.

It was hurt worse than I'd thought. My blade bit deep into the wound, deeper than it had into its back. It swung its claw, trying to dislodge me, but I held on, hacking and chopping. It was slower now, I realized, whatever frenzy had sustained it waning away. I took the chance, letting go and dropping to the ground, then springing back toward it, wrapping my shield arm around the claw, clamping on with my legs. I stabbed and slashed as fast as I could, my arm a blur.

Then, before I realized it, I was through. The hermitaur swung its arm, trying to dislodge me, and something broke. The claw came free, tumbling to the ground, and I went with it.

The monster stood there frozen for a moment, down a limb – two, counting the broken leg – and I stared at it from the ground, panting. Then it crouched down, its remaining limbs digging at the sand, and started to burrow.

"Damn it! No!" I swore, bolting upright for the millionth time, staggering forward. Too late. It was already spinning in place, corkscrewing down into the ground. By the time I reached it only its shell was visible. I swung at it anyway, and my blade bounced off. Then it was gone, leaving nothing but a patch of loose, bloodstained sand to show where it had been.

I stared at the sand for a moment, panting, arms hanging limp at my sides.

It was the wrong thing to do. Without warning, the broken horn speared upward from the sand, hammering into my stomach with incredible force, cracking my armor, driving the wind out of me, and sending me flying.

 _Thank god_ , I thought as I flew. A few inches lower and it would have hit me between the legs.

I hit the ground, yet _again_ , and lay there, trying to suck in a breath and failing. The ground rumbled , and the horn speared upward, twenty feet away. A few seconds later it did it again, in another spot. I froze, doing everything I could not to give away my position. Again and again it speared upward, aiming blind, hitting nothing.

Then it was gone, the ground rumbling one last time, the sound receding out of the area and fading into the distance.

"Did it run?" I wheezed at nobody, sitting up and looking around. My stomach twinged, and I fought back a surge of vomit. "Ow."

"God, Hunter," Shadow Stalker said, appearing out of nowhere again to crouch down beside me. "You alright?

"Gimme a minute and I will be," I said, trying to get my feet under me. My stomach rebelled again, and I gave up. "Ow," I repeated.

She moved to support me, one hand on my shoulder and the other at my lower back. "Shit," she said. "I gave Rune the last of that potion. Wish I hadn't, now."

"Potion?" I asked. "Really?"

She shrugged. "You mixed it up from herbs and mushrooms," she pointed out. "Seems like a fitting name."

"Guess so," I said, then fell silent. My eyes roved over the area, but I saw no sign that the daimyo was still around. Apart from my labored breathing, the place was silent.

Eventually I heard the sound of footsteps crunching over the sand, and Rifle approached.

"I'm a bit surprised you're alive," he said. "That likely to change any time soon?"

"Asshole!" Shadow Stalker snapped, arms tightening around me.

Rifle held up his free hand, the one not holding his shotgun, in a pacifying gesture. "Don't take it the wrong way," he said. "I'm just weighing our chances."

"I'll live," I said. "Give me five minutes and I'll be ready to get back in the fight."

"Don't be stupid," he said. "This mission is a bust. I'm calling it off. As soon as you can move again, we're headed back to the cart. If you can't walk, Rune will carry you."

I glared at him, anger pushing away the pain, and struggled to sit up, but Shadow Stalker held me down.

"Shut up," she snapped, sounding as angry as I felt. "Just fucking shut it, Hunter. We're done. We lost. Fucking accept it."

"We didn't-" I growled, and she punched me in the gut. I gagged, my whole body going tight for a moment. I fell back, panting.

"We lost," she said. "This isn't worth dying over."

"Fuck!" I said, balling up a fist and slamming it onto the ground beside me. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"You done?" Rifle asked.

"I'm done," I confirmed, letting my head drop to the ground. I lay there for a minute, staring up at the blue desert sky. Rifle left, but Shadow Stalker stayed with me.

"Are you gonna be okay, Hunter?" she asked. "Like, really?"

"I'll be fine," I told her, doing my best to keep the bitterness from my voice. "A day, maybe two. I've been hurt worse."

"Good," she said.

Eventually the pain died down, and I climbed to my feet, Shadow Stalker holding on to support me. Once I was upright I shrugged her arm away, and she took a few steps back.

Rune was already up, and I didn't feel like questioning her to see if she was alright. She glanced at me, then said a few words to Rifle. He looked me over as well, but wisely didn't say anything.

We got ready to go in silence, and for once I had no urge to break it. The others refilled their water bottles at the pool, and both Rune and Shadow Stalker waded in, coming out shivering and dripping. Rifle didn't bother, simply waiting for them to be done then marching back toward the canyon we'd come from. On the way there my eyes fell on the broken claw of the daimyo hermitaur. It was huge, seven or eight feet long, and at least four across. It probably weighted half a ton.

I walked over to examine it, but nothing was coming to me from my tinker power. Just a dull sense that, yeah, I could make use of it. But that was all.

A kick set it wobbling, and a few drops of purple blood fell to the sand.

"Hunter?" Rifle asked.

I didn't reply. I just grabbed some straps from a pouch, and started tying them to the claw.

If nothing else, I would at least have a trophy.

 _Maybe I'll make it into a couch._

The trip back to the cart was a blur. I remembered plodding through the desert, dragging the claw behind me, and I remembered the rocking of the cart, but it was all just flashes. Nothing substantial. Wisps of memory that were more like dreams.

I finally woke up back at the portal station, as the sun was setting. The cart wasn't moving, and it took me a minute to realize that we were probably docked.

There was something wrong, though.

I sat up, blinking, trying to figure out what was happening. It was loud. Too loud. Panicked voices, some shouting, some giving orders, trying to establish control. My breathing sped up, and adrenaline pushed some of the fatigue from my system.

"What's happening?" I asked.

Shadow Stalker's head snapped toward me, but it was Rifle that answered.

"An elder dragon," he said, his voice incredibly calm given what he was saying. "It's hitting Boston."


	11. A Giant Dragon Invades!

**Chapter Eleven: A Giant Dragon Invades!**

"Why the hell are we just sitting here? Let's go!"

Shadow Stalker hunched her shoulders at my outburst, but once again it was Rifle that answered.

"No," he said. His voice was flat, and his face lacked any expression.

"That's it?" I asked. "Just 'no'?"

"We all agreed, before you woke up," he said. "Fighting any monster now would be beyond stupid. An elder dragon? Well, they don't have words for how brainless an idea that is."

"I'm fine being brainless," I told him, leveraging myself off the bench. My body ached, and it took me a moment to get my balance, my muscles not quite listening to me. "I'm not fine with being a coward."

"Neither am I," Rifle said. "But this isn't cowardice, and I'd expect even you to realize that."

"That's not gonna work," I told him, stumbling around the inside of the cart, collecting my stuff, getting ready. "I'm basically insult-proof. You can't shame me into agreeing with you."

Rifle breathed out sharply, then closed his eyes and drew a slower breath in through his nose. "This isn't about insults. I'm trying to find a way to reach you, here. To make you see things from my perspective. I need you to realize what's at stake, and why it makes sense for us to sit this fight out."

"Oh, I know all that," I said, stopping my preparations to face him. "Jokes and shit aside, I'm not an idiot. I get the logic. I'm badly hurt, the girls are under the effects of a weird tinker drug, we're out of supplies, dehydrated from a day in the desert, tired, worn out, just off a losing fight, emotionally charged, inexperienced, going in blind, etcetera etcetera. Should I go on?"

"I'd add that we're already considered expendable by the Protectorate," he said. "To me, that's the real reason. They're not going to care about throwing us into the meat-grinder to save some of the real heroes."

"That's debatable," I said. "There's evidence to support it, but also against."

"Either way, you've got to realize that we're on our own," he said, leaning forward, though he kept his hands on his knees, and his expression blank. "Nobody really wants us here. Nobody's looking out for us. The only people we have to watch our backs are each other."

My eyes flicked to Shadow Stalker, then Rune. I thought about saying something about those two watching each others backs, but decided against it. "I get it," I said instead. "I don't think you're wrong. Not all the way wrong, anyway. But I'm still going."

"Why? This can't just be because you like to fight."

I shrugged, glancing away from him. His face was still blank, but it was hard to meet his eyes. "I mean, it kind of is," I said. "This is what the Protectorate is for, in the end. If I run away here, what's even the point of signing up?"

"You ran away from the yian garuga," he pointed out. "What makes this different?"

"We were never supposed to fight it," I said. "That wasn't the job. Getting away was the goal, right from the start, and we did."

"You have to see how meaningless a distinction that is," he said. "If you were willing to use that kind of logic then, you can use it here. Reason your way into staying with us until the fighting's done. Consider the medicine Rune and Shadow Stalker took. You're the tinker that made it. If there's any side effects, nobody's in a better place to diagnose them than you. That's valuable, surely."

"Yeah, you're right. That is reasonable," I said, still not facing him. "If I'm honest though, that's not what this is really about."

"And?" he asked, when I didn't go on. "Do we get to know what it's about?"

I grimaced, trying to find the words. None came to mind. "Fuck it," I muttered to myself, then raised my head to face him. "Bottom line, it just feels right. Fighting feels right, and staying feels wrong. I don't want to have to sit here feeling like shit because I went against my gut. That's it." I turned to Shadow Stalker. "How about you? You really alright sitting this out?"

"We already went over this," Rifle said, raising his voice, and Shadow Stalker hunched her shoulders even more, hanging her head. "We laid out all the facts, and came to a decision as a group."

"I bet you did," I said.

"You were asleep," Rifle said. "We didn't know if you'd even be able to fight, let alone willing."

"I dragged a half-ton claw miles across the blazing desert," I pointed out. "You know I heal fast, and I don't get tired."

"We also know you sleep a lot," he said. "You could just as easily have slept through the entire fight. Hunter, this really is the best choice. Maybe it's going to be uncomfortable for you, but-"

"Shut up!" I snapped. "Stalker, Rune, you really buying this? I haven't heard a word from either of you, yet."

"Hunter-" Rifle started, but I clapped my hands together as hard as my enhanced strength would allow. The resulting sharp crack of sound saw him jump in his seat, his hand darting to a pocket before snapping back into place on his knee. Afterward, his breathing was quicker, though he got it under control almost instantly.

"You're jumpy," I said. "You pulled an end-run around me while I was out, you probably fast-talked the others, or browbeat them, and you're nervous this will all backfire. It's why you want a united front now, and why you're spouting all this 'we' shit."

"It's an elder dragon!" he burst out. "You're damn fucking right I'm jumpy! I need this team! We all need this team! If you go and die trying to fight a city-killing monster, we're done! It's all done!"

He stopped, looking down and lacing his hands together in his lap. His knuckles were white, and I could see the muscles in his jaw clench.

"Relax," I said. "It's not like I'm pissed at you or anything. You did what felt right to you, and it's not like I can complain about that. I'm not gonna give you a speech about what a 'real leader' does or anything, either. But I'm also not gonna stay."

"Then go," he said, his voice once again under control. "And fuck you, for being so selfish."

"Stalker, Rune?" I asked again.

Shadow Stalker glanced up at me, and I smiled at her. She huffed out a breath and flipped her hood up, then stood up, coming to stand beside me.

"If I let you go on your own, you'd probably get yourself killed," she said.

"Yeah, probably," I said.

We turned to go, but before we made it off the cart, Rune hurried to join us.

"My family's in Boston," she said, quietly.

"Cool," I replied. "The more the merrier."

Outside the cart, the station was abuzz with activity. There weren't any capes around, at least not that I could see, but people were hurrying in every direction, loading or unloading carts, moving with energy. As I looked around, searching for someone in charge who could tell us where to go, a cart pulled up and people immediately started piling on. Civilians. Fleeing from the attack, I assumed.

I was taller than most people in the crowd, so it didn't take long to locate someone in a blue-and-brown Protectorate uniform, waving people through and directing traffic.

"Hey!" I called out as I approached. "Three capes, just back from a hunt! Where do we go?"

The person – an older woman, with a uniform skirt rather than pants – looked us up and down, taking in the blood, ichor, and sand that crusted us, as well as my own damaged armor. She frowned, a worried expression that drew her eyebrows in, but when she spoke her voice was professional and calm.

"Take the subway to the forest-and-hills station," she said. "They've got airships there that can ship you to the Boston portal."

I started trotting off as soon as she answered, giving her a quick wave over my shoulder, but she had already turned away.

The station was too loud and busy for conversation, and the trip on the subway too tense. When we arrived at the forest-and-hills station, it was even busier than the desert station had been. People were pushing through in both directions, herded by uniformed Protectorate personnel as well as police and army troops.

One of the soldiers looked our way as we got off the subway car, and I raised my hands to my mouth. "Volunteers!" I shouted. "Trying to get to the fight!"

"That way!" he shouted, gesturing toward a side door.

The door led to a hallway, which led to some stairs, all of it passing in a blur, and I found myself breathing hard even before we got to the airship. When we boarded it, I collapsed onto a bench, too drained to even be curious about it as it took off.

"Shit, Hunter, are you really gonna be alright?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Yeah," I told her, fishing out a ration bar from a pouch and peeling off the wrapper. I devoured it in two bites, then got another. "Been hurt worse."

"You said that already," she pointed out. "I'm just not sure if it's bullshit or not."

I ate the second bar as quickly as the first, then started fishing around for another. "Not bullshit," I said. No more bars, and I was out of jerky. I looked up at her. "Got any food?"

She handed me a bar without a word, and then another seconds later after I'd finished the first. I felt a poke at my ribs, and turned to see Rune holding up three more.

"Angel," I said, taking them, tearing off the packaging and scarfing them down.

It said something that Shadow Stalker didn't hit me, or even comment on what I'd said to Rune.

The ride on the airship was even shorter than the one on the subway, and within minutes we were at the Boston portal station.

If the stations in New York had been busy, this one was frantic.

I stopped at the edge of the airship platform, taking quick, deep breaths through my nose.

"I can smell the fear," I said. "No bullshit, I actually can."

"Don't need super-senses for that," Shadow Stalker answered, pushing me from behind, getting me moving again. "Hot piss and cold sweat. Nothing magical about it."

"Suppose so," I said.

Behind us, the airship we'd arrived in lifted off again, ropes creaking. I didn't bother looking, too focused on my goal.

"This way," Shadow Stalker said, grabbing my elbow and turning me to look at another hunting group hustling through the crowd. The officers present – Protectorate and otherwise – made a path for them, roughly shoving the civilians out of the way.

We moved in behind them, following the path they broke. Around us, people stared with wide eyes. Some spoke, but the din was too loud for me to make out any one voice. Their expressions varied wildly, from gratitude, to fear, to curiosity, to anger, and I didn't have time to see more than a flash of any one person before they were swept away in the tide of humanity.

"Capes, this way! Capes, this way!"

The sound came from an officer with a megaphone, standing beside a door with a dozen armed soldiers around it, forming a cordon and keeping the civilians away.

We made our way over and were ushered through without a word, trotting up multiple flights of stairs, finally coming out on the roof of the station, on the Earth Bet side. It was flat except for a little construction on one side, almost like a hut made of concrete, with several dishes and antennas sprouting from it. In the middle of the roof, a helicopter was already taking off, buffeting us with wind as soon as we exited the staircase.

"Did we miss it!?" Rune shouted.

"No!" Shadow Stalker answered, pointing up. "There!"

I followed her finger to see another drab green helicopter coming in for a landing, dangerously close on the heels of the first. It bumped down hard on the roof, shocks flexing, and a panel slid open on the side.

"Here! Here! Here!" a soldier yelled, gesturing to the interior. The urgency in his voice was palpable, and I found myself sprinting over before I realized it.

We piled in, the solider slammed the door shut, and the helicopter took off, all of it happening almost simultaneously.

I braced against the sudden acceleration, holding in a gag as the movement send a stab of pain up from my stomach. My armor felt tight there, as if I was bloated or swelling. I never felt that way from food. A rupture of something? If so, it wouldn't be the first time, and I knew I'd heal, but it still wasn't fun in the short-term.

"So, this is all very slick," I said, doing my best to quell my rebellious stomach. "Did you know we were coming?"

The soldier glanced at me, but between their helmet, uniform, and a black mask over their nose and mouth, I couldn't read anything of their emotions.

"We were told to pick up a team here, and we did," he said.

"I guess things have to be organized pretty well, for something like this," Rune added. The nervousness in her voice was easily audible, and the fact that she didn't even say the words 'elder dragon' were telling. To me, anyway.

"We try," the solider said, curtly.

Nobody said anything after that, and I leaned to the side, looking out the window built into the sliding door. We weren't high up. At first all I could see was the bay, and the little islands scattered in it. But then we swung around, and I saw the city.

I'd never been to Boston before. I didn't know the first thing about the city, except that it was smaller than New York and everyone had a weird accent, so I had no real way to know how much damage had been done. Whatever metric I used, though, it was clearly a lot. A trail of destruction led from a huge rent in the air – a towering white scar – and cut straight through the city. A hundred-foot-wide path along which nothing stood, miles long already.

The helicopter turned to follow that trail, moving parallel to it, and it wasn't long before the fight was in view. It wasn't easy to see anything, given the smoke and haze that hung in the air, but the flashes of multicolored light and the constant sound of rolling thunder told me all I needed to know about how fierce it was.

Even as I watched, a tall building – all glass and steel – toppled sideways, smashing into its neighbor, shattering whole floors. Dust billowed up, only to be torn and blasted away by the continuing attacks, twisted into strange patterns and even occasionally moving with purpose, probably controlled by a hero or villain.

"There's a rolling command post moving ahead of the battle," the solider said, and I glanced at him. He had a finger held to the side of his helmet, his head tilted as he listened to a radio or commlink, the other held white-knuckle tight on a handle above the door. "We'll be dropping you there in two minutes. Get ready."

"Right," I said, turning back to the window.

"What, no dirty joke?" Shadow Stalker asked, her voice just a bit too loud to be casual.

I just shook my head, and stared down at the path of destruction.

Then, through a gap between two buildings, I caught sight of the elder dragon itself. It was immense. Beyond huge. A gigantic rust-red form, rearing up on its hind legs, as tall as any of the buildings around it. It had four short legs and no wings, and was plated in armor that had to be feet thick, even on its head. Spiked protrusions swept backwards down its whole length, starting with a frill of horns on the back of the head, then getting longer down its back, before smoothing out down the tail. The underbelly was paler, and smooth, almost polished. Its nose was crested with a long horn, and as it reached its full height, the dragon opened its mouth to reveal rows of jagged, tusk-like fangs.

I recognized it. It – or another like it – had attacked Beijing almost eight years ago, and tens of thousands of people had died. The Chinese had named it Lao-Shan Lung.

It stood there for a moment, looking around, ignoring the attacks that poured in from every direction, mouth agape. Then, it breathed in.

"Oh shit!" I swore, bracing myself.

It wasn't fire that came out of its mouth. The Lao-Shan Lung didn't have a power like that, though some elder dragons did. In this case, though, it didn't need one. The enormous roar it let out was like a power on its own, utterly incomparable to even the yian garuga's. Even more than a quarter mile away the sheer force of the sound was painful. It went on, and on, and on, as the enormous dragon moved its head with glacial slowness from side to side, bellowing at the sky.

Our helicopter swerved, bucking and tossing in the air, and for a moment I thought we were going to crash, but the pilot got it under control surprisingly quickly.

Closer to the dragon, the effect of the roar was worse. Glass shattered, raining down into the cloud of dust that hung around the Lao-Shan's lower quarter, blocking sight of the ground. An already damaged building shook, then started to collapse, folding in on itself. All fighting stopped, and I could imagine why. Being close to that, it wouldn't have been surprising if the sound alone had been enough to injure. Or kill.

Then it was out of sight again, behind a building, as the helicopter dipped lower.

Nobody spoke. There was nothing to say.

We landed soon after, descending into the cloud. We disembarked, and the helicopter lifted off, dispelling the dust for a moment with the wind from its rotors.

"What now?" Rune asked.

I looked around. The dust was coming back, sweeping in from the direction of the dragon. I could smell it in the air, pulverized concrete and asphalt. It was hard to make out anything around us, though I could see any number of military vehicles parked nearby or slowly moving around. A rolling command post, the solider had said, but with the dust in the air I couldn't see where we were supposed to go. If sight was out, hearing wasn't any better. Even after the deafening whup-whup of the helicopter faded, things were a jumble. Too much going on.

I could hear the dragon, though. Earth-shaking rumbles, steady, every few seconds. Footsteps.

"Names!" Someone shouted, and I turned to see a cape, their costume a series of sharp, upward-pointed spikes in various shades of electric blue.

"Hunter," I said.

"Shadow Stalker," Shadow Stalker said, then gestured to the side. "This is Rune."

The cape stopped for a moment, bit their lip, and their hands flashed through a series of rapid movements, like they were counting on their fingers at a furious pace.

"You two, search and rescue sweep," they said, jabbing a finger each at me and Shadow Stalker. "You, ranged offense," they added, stabbing their thumb toward Rune.

"Wait, I came here to fight!" I said, stepping forward.

"No point," they said, sweeping their hand dismissively. "You can't hurt it. Go collect an armband. Save some lives. Earn your pay."

"Hold-" I started, but he flickered for a moment, then disappeared, the dust flowing in to fill the space he'd just vacated. "-on."

"He said we need armbands," Shadow Stalker said. "I know those. They gave us a demonstration when I was first in the JP, just in case. Guess it was a good plan."

I stood there for a moment, glaring at the space the cape had vacated, and Shadow Stalker came up to stand beside me, put her hand on my shoulder.

"C'mon, Hunter," she said. "It's better this way. Anyway, look at the bright side. We might fuck up and have to fight our way free or something."

"Right," I said with a sigh. "Just feels shitty, after arguing with Rifle and everything."

"Yeah, well, suck it up," she said.

"Guess I'll go," Rune said. She was quiet for a moment, mouth working. "Bye."

"Later," I said, holding up a hand toward her. "Give it hell."

"Sure," she said. She hesitated for a second longer, then turned and trotted off. The dust swallowed her, and she was gone.

Shadow Stalker led us through the cloud, past military, police, and Protectorate forces heading this way and that, past rumbling tanks and other armored vehicles, toward one especially obvious vehicle with a series of huge whip-like antennas on top. It was parked facing the dragon's line of advance – I could hear the footsteps getting closer – with the back open, forming a ramp.

She hopped up the ramp, spoke to a soldier inside, and came back with two high-tech armbands. She tossed one my way, and I turned it over in my hand a few times, then slid it over my gauntlet. It fastened to my wrist automatically, rippling and compressing, getting a good hold.

"Two buttons," she said, pointing to them. "One to make a request or send a report. Other is an emergency beacon. Press them both down to do an area-wide announcement. Don't do that without a good reason. Screen has a map with our positions and where we're supposed to go."

I looked at the map. It was a simple green screen, with black grid lines and a white wire-frame map of the city as seen from above. A blinking arrow already indicated a direction of travel, not quite toward the elder dragon, a bit off to one side.

"If I'm remembering right, evacuation should be handled by regular emergency services, mostly," she said, trotting off, following the arrow. I fell in behind her. "They do the stuff ahead of the dragon's advance, and follow up behind it. We're doing the stuff that's closer in, where it's dangerous."

"I guess that's something," I said, then thought of the arrow-straight line of destruction I'd seen from the helicopter, of how slowly the dragon had been moving. "Not much, though."

We quickly made our way to the grid section the armband indicated. It was the same for both of us, so I assumed we were meant to work together. Not that there was much to do. We walked the dust-choked streets, alert for any signs of life. Shadow Stalker used her power to investigate the buildings we passed, while I strained all my senses for any sign of stragglers.

For a long time, we didn't find anything. No one to evacuate, no signs of other capes. We just paralleled the monster's path, several blocks over, nerves frayed by the constant billowing dust and the steady pounding of the dragon's footsteps.

"In there?" Shadow Stalker asked after a while, gesturing toward a tall office building. The lower floors were wider than the upper ones, framed with glass for the windows and ceiling, and full of shops, like a little mall.

I sniffed at the air. "I'm smelling people, but this is a city, and I can't tell if it's fresh."

"Good enough," she said. "Come on."

We entered, and I checked the map on my armband. We were ahead of the dragon, for now, and the building wasn't directly in its path. Even so, the approaching footsteps set my teeth on edge.

It was worse inside. The rumbling was directionless, the shaking of the ground accompanied by the creaking and cracking of the windows and ceiling, and the constant clatter and rattle of loose objects being shaken or falling to the floor.

"I can't hear shit in here," I told Shadow Stalker. "Smell isn't any better. Too many people here, too recently. Can't pick anyone out,"

"We'll just take a quick look," she said. "Then move to the next grid section."

I gestured for her to go ahead, and she did, weaving around the scattered remnants of the evacuation. Discarded briefcases, spilled cups of coffee, shopping bags half full of forgotten purchases, all leading to the doors we'd just entered through.

I took one side of the building, she took the other. We stuck out heads into each shop along the way, looking around and calling out, then listening for an answer. None came. Despite the evidence that the building had recently been full of people, we didn't find anyone. There wasn't any blood I could smell, either. No piss or shit, except in the bathrooms. Nothing to say there was anyone injured or unconscious, incapable of responding to our calls but still waiting for rescue.

The last store I checked was a music store, all the CDs scattered and the racks fallen, bouncing and clattering with every step the dragon took.

"Hey! Anyone here!?" I called, my hands cupped to my mouth. Again, no answer, aside from the steady drumbeat of gargantuan footsteps.

On the way out, a couple of CDs caught my eye, and I bent down to grab them, looking them over.

"You know you can't keep those, right?" Shadow Stalker asked as I emerged from the store.

"I'm aware that looting is generally frowned on, yes," I told her, tossing the CDs to the ground. "Just wanted to take a look."

She eyed the little plastic cases. "Ugh. Country? Seriously?"

I bit back a harsh reply. The way I was feeling, I wouldn't be able to stop once I got started.

"Let's go," I said instead. "Next grid section."

Shadow Stalker stared at me, then turned without a word and started walking.

Before we got outside, though, the thumping footsteps slowed, then stopped. The armband let out a shrill tone, screen flashing, a huge warning sign appearing at the edge of the screen, in the direction of the dragon.

"Roar!" Shadow Stalker yelled, crouching down and clapping her hands over her ears.

My heart flip-flopped in my chest, and I followed suit, rushing to her and crouching down protectively, one arm around her shoulder, the other pressed to the side of my helmet.

The roar shook the ground. It was worse than an earthquake, worse than a car crash. It was everywhere, inside me, making my head rattle and my bones creak. I felt like I was going to shake to pieces, the pain from my injuries boring into my stomach and chest.

Shadow Stalker went shadow to escape it, the waves of sound tearing at her in her insubstantial shape, wisps of her blowing away, her body almost coming apart.

Above us, the glass roof of the shopping area shattered, along with every piece of glass in the area, raining down on us. A huge section fell on my head, shattering into even smaller pieces that spread out around us like water, shuddering and jumping with the constant, omnipresent roar.

When it was finally gone, I fell to my hands and knees, stomach heaving, throwing up onto the tile floor. Half-digested energy bars and jerky splattered to the dusty asphalt, laced with thick strands of blood.

"Fuck," I slurred, wiping my mouth with the back of my gauntlet.

Shadow Stalker wasn't much better. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach, swallowing convulsively and shivering hard.

"This was stupid," she said, her voice shaking as much as she was. "So stupid."

I didn't answer. She was right. If I'd known before...

No, I still would have come.

I forced myself to my feet, clenching my jaw and stiffening my shaking knees.

"Back to work," I said, curtly, forcing the words out.

She looked up at me for a moment, face hidden behind her stern mask, then stood as well.

We continued our patrol, moving through the area the armband indicated until some unknown metric was met, then moving on to the next. Time seemed to move at a crawl, dictated by the pounding of massive feet, punctuated by spikes of blood-freezing fear whenever those steps stopped.

Thankfully the monster didn't roar every time it stopped moving. There were other sounds, though, almost as overpowering. The crack of thunder, washing over us and lighting up the dust-choked sky. The rising howl of artillery shells, followed by thumping explosions almost as deep and loud as the dragon's footsteps. More exotic sounds, too. Powers I couldn't even imagine, being used to stop a monster bigger than a skyscraper. Or try to, anyway.

"Hey, got one," Shadow Stalker said, phasing out of the wall of a building that was so covered in dust and debris I couldn't make out what it was. "Man trapped under a desk. I need your muscles."

I grinned for a moment, but it slipped off my face before I could even get the words out. I gestured for her to lead the way, and she did, bringing me around the side to a rotating glass door. Broken, like the wide windows that fronted the building. Inside, the foyer was coated with dust and broken glass. A monotone gray, broken by the occasional glitter of light. The sound cut down slightly as we entered.

The man was on the third floor, the ceiling above him a gaping hole. He was pinned under not just one desk, but two. His had collapsed on his legs when a second desk fell from the broken ceiling. Like everything else, he was covered in dust and broken glass, thin red runnels coming from his ears the only thing to differentiate him from his surroundings.

He was unconscious, but breathing, though not steadily.

"I'd say something comforting, but I don't know the protocols, and I don't think he can hear us," I said, grabbing both desks and heaving them off him on one motion. They crashed to the ground beside us, shaking the floor a lot less than the dragon was. "What now?"

"Hang on," Shadow Stalker said, crouching down and poking at him, checking him over in a way that suggested that she, unlike me, had done first aid training. "Okay, let's get him out to the street. I'll call for pickup."

I nodded, lifting him in a princess carry – careful to support his lolling head – then hurrying back down the stairs and out into the street. He didn't seem that badly injured. No obviously broken bones. Probably knocked out by the roar, rather than the falling desk. Given the blood coming from his ears, that might have been even worse.

Another cape met us outside. A guy about our age in a birdlike mask, with metal strips dangling from his sleeves. He took the man from me, hooked him to a harness on his chest, then took to the air without a word.

My first sight of the Lao-Shan Lung from ground-level came soon after that. Down a long street, through the haze, a few blocks away. Even that far off, it towered over everything. It was reared up again, continuing to march forward on its hind legs, its head raised high, maw snapping at tiny figures that flew around it. Its forelimbs reached up as well, batting at the capes that harassed it. That was the only word, because they certainly weren't hurting it. It was injured, of course. Given its speed and the size of the trail it had left, it had to have been in the city for hours. That long a fight was going to take a toll, even on a goliath elder dragon. Its armor plates were cracked, some of its spikes and spines ended in jagged stumps, and its underbelly was scorched black in a dozen places, and pieced in others. But compared to the volume of fire coming in at it, the injuries were minor, even minimal. Not a tenth enough to stop it. Not a hundredth.

An explosion blossomed against its stomach, followed by another, and another. The sound reached us a moment later, repeated double-thumps. Artillery or tank shells, fired and then exploding. They didn't even leave a mark.

Neither of us spoke. We stood there, unmoving, until it had ponderously stepped out of sight, continuing forward, still in a straight line, undeterred by anything done to it.

"C'mon," Shadow Stalker said, once it was mostly out of sight, just the long tail being dragged along the ground, following the enormous body deeper into the city.

"Yeah," I said.

Time passed, the sky getting dull, moving from afternoon to evening. The Lao-Shan Lung roared three more times, each one worse than the last. As time passed, we got busier. Not with civilians, but with injured heroes. Brutes that had been battered past the point of endurance, blasters and shakers crippled by the roars, and sometimes capes buried in the rubble of shattered buildings.

Every time the armbands led us to one, Shadow Stalker checked them, to see if they were safe to carry. If they were I picked them up and got them to a safe distance for a mover to take them the rest of the way. If not, we called in a teleporter for emergency extraction.

Some spoke to us, some didn't. Thanks, mostly, spoken in gasps or in quiet, exhausted voices. I didn't keep track of them, and they swiftly blended together, gray-crusted forms I had no care for. My attention was always for the dragon, its presence impossible to ignore, simultaneously making me want to rush toward it and flee from it.

My armband beeped, and I tensed, but it wasn't another roar warning. A section of the map was flashing, less than a block away, one of the wire-frame buildings lighting up, an arrow pointing to it.

"Priority rescue. Pretty close to the dragon, too" Shadow Stalker said, staring at her own armband. Her voice was hoarse, and her costume was covered in dust, to the point that I could barely see its original color.

"Probably why they're sending us," I said, my voice as hoarse as hers, but with a wet undertone. The roars hurt, the pain spreading through my entire body, and I figured there was some blood or fluid accumulating in my lungs. "We're tough."

"Yeah," she said.

The dragon's footsteps grew louder as we approached the building the armbands indicated. A small, four-story apartment building, old, made of brick, on a curving side-street. The path the dragon was taking had long since left the downtown areas of Boston, though to me the difference wasn't that significant. Buildings were buildings, roads were roads, and apart from the size I barely noted the differences.

Cities weren't my thing.

We were ahead of the dragon's advance again, and the building wasn't that damaged. Broken windows – from the roars, probably – and a thick coating of dust that turned what might have been a nice lawn or garden into just another stretch of featureless gray, barely different from the road.

"What do you think, civilian or cape?" Shadow Stalker asked, walking up to the front door. She tried the handle, but it didn't turn. Locked.

I stepped up beside her and kicked the door, hard. It flew off its hinges, clattering to the floor in a cloud of dust. The kick stretched my already tight, bloated stomach, pulling at it, and I tensed up.

"Dunno," I said a second later, once my throat unclenched.

"Guess it doesn't matter," she said, heading in. She looked around, moving carefully, but the floor seemed to be in good shape. "Wish we had some better information."

"Nobody on this floor," I said, scenting the air. "Hasn't been for a while, I'd say."

There wasn't an elevator in the building, but there was a stairwell near the front door. Shadow Stalker headed up, shifting into her shadow state and leaping up a full flight at once, then turning to jump again, all the way to the second floor.

My progress was slower, the damage from kicking down the door still lingering. When I reached the second floor, it was to see Shadow Stalker staring out a broken window, frozen in place. I moved to stand beside her, and froze as well.

The window was at the front of the building, overlooking the street, and it had a good, unobstructed view of the parks and smaller buildings that made up this part of Boston. That wasn't what froze us, though.

Past the parks, past the buildings, advancing at a steady pace, was the enormous, spiked form of the Lao-Shan Lung.


	12. Lao-Shan Lung Draws Near!

**Chapter Twelve: Lao-Shan Lung Draws Near!**

"Why the hell is it coming this way?"

For a moment I didn't realize I'd spoken the words aloud. Too much of my focus was on the approaching dragon. It wasn't close, yet. Probably more than a mile distant, and not actually coming straight at us. But for something bigger than most buildings, words like 'close' and 'straight' had different meanings.

Besides, there was the roar to consider, too. Being within half a dozen blocks of it had been bad. I had no interest in seeing what it would do to me close up.

"I guess that's why this was urgent," Shadow Stalker said. She shook herself, then turned around, forcing herself to ignore the approaching dragon. "C'mon."

I wrenched my attention off it as well. The building wasn't that big. Just four floors, with three apartments per floor. We had some time.

Two of the apartments on the second floor were empty of anything but basic furniture, obviously unoccupied. With the amount of dust that covered everything – blown in through the broken windows – it was impossible to tell how long they'd been that way, but something told me it had been a while. The third apartment showed signs of recent occupation, but nothing to indicate a panicked flight. Either empty when the dragon had emerged from its portal, or so far outside the initial danger zone that the occupants had been able to evacuate without any need to hurry.

The third floor was different, I could smell it as soon as I emerged from the stairwell. A smell, not quite sour, but unmistakable.

"That one," I said, pointing to a door with a stained handle and a faint brown smudge on the wall beside it.

Shadow Stalker tried the handle, and the door swung open. More smell wafted out, sharper. I wrinkled my nose and stepped back. Most bad smells didn't bother me. Monster dung, musk, blood, none of them had any effect, no matter how overpowering. Human smells were different, somehow. Maybe just because I'd formed the negative associate before I got my power.

Whatever the reason, the smell of unwashed elderly repelled me.

Inside, the apartment was about what I'd expected from the smell. A place that had been inhabited for so long, and left untended for so much of that time, that the stink of the inhabitant had soaked into the walls. Dingy wallpaper with stains and smudges from where a person had planted their hand for support so many times that even incidental contact had ground the sweat and oil in. A carpet that was pounded flat and hard in the middle, a darker trail made by someone walking the same path thousands of times. Paintings and framed pictures on the walls, made into modern art by decades of smoke and grease.

The less said about the clutter that overflowed ever horizontal surface, the better.

"Hey!" Shadow Stalker called out, walking in and looking around, searching for the person we were meant to rescue. "We're here to help you evacuate!"

"Go away!"

"Expected that," I muttered, shying away as a rumbling footstep sent a pile of books, old socks, and empty pill bottling sliding to the ground.

"This building is in the path of the attacking elder dragon," Shadow Stalker continued, picking her way towards the sound of the voice. "If you stay here, you're in significant danger of the building collapsing, or of being in range of a roar."

"Don't care," the voice said. "I'm not leaving."

We entered the living room of the apartment, met by a scowling, wrinkled face under wisps of grayish, greasy hair.

An old man, I figured, though I made that judgement more by the stain-spotted t-shirt and filthy shorts than anything else. He was seated in an equally filthy recliner, his arms crossed, staring fixedly at a TV that, like the rest of the apartment, currently lacked power. Surprisingly, the room wasn't buried in concrete dust, like the rest of the city so far. The windows were covered by blackout curtains that had been taped around the frames, and likely not recently. Some of the tape was peeling away, and the brown, crusty gunk that covered the sticky sides looked plenty old.

"Sir, I'm telling you that your life is in danger if you stay," Shadow Stalker said. "We can guarantee you safe transport, and temporary lodgings, in accordance with Protectorate policy. Free of charge."

"Don't care," the man repeated. "Didn't leave for the rathian. Didn't leave for the gravios. Not leaving now."

That took me a moment to figure out, mostly because the apartment wasn't anywhere near a station, and there hadn't been a really serious portal breach in the country for most of my life. Not one that required an evacuation, anyway. Barring elder dragons, of course. More than that, I couldn't remember the last time either a rathian or gravios had appeared outside a portal, anywhere. A decade, probably. Maybe more.

"This isn't like that," I said. "This is an elder dragon. It's not gonna be stopped short, and it can't be contained. If you don't leave, you're fucking dead."

The man crossed his arms harder, something that was a bit impressive on its own, sinking into his chair, expression fixed. He didn't say anything, but the message was clear.

"Whatever, we tried," I said, turning around, but Shadow Stalker caught my elbow, stopping me.

"Sir, you are legally required to cooperate with an evacuation order," she said. "If you refuse, you will be removed, and can be charged with disrupting emergency services and endangering the lives of emergency personnel."

The man sneered, turning watery eyes on her. "Fella upstairs said as much. Told him what I'll tell you. Do it, or get the hell out, and be damned with you."

That gave her pause. "What fellow upstairs?"

"Don't know, don't care," the man said, turning back to the darkened TV screen. "One of your lot."

We glanced at each other. Shadow Stalker's expression was hidden by her mask, but the confusion was still evident.

"Come on," I said, turning away. "We won't get anything else here. Let's check upstairs."

"Yeah, sure," Shadow Stalker said, casting one last look at the stubborn old man.

Back out in the hallway, I glanced toward the window. The Lao-Shan was closer, walking forward, pushing a wave of debris ahead of it. Broken brickwork, chunks of concrete, and pulverized trees, all ground to powder underneath its mammoth claws. Lights strobed in at it, flashing in stark black and white, coming from a man seated on a bus-sized flying cannon, but the attacks were ignored, and didn't seem to be doing any damage.

That was less important to me than the dragon's position, though. While we'd been arguing with the old man, the dragon had crossed nearly half the distance to us. I didn't think it was going to actually run over the building, but it would come close. Way closer than I was comfortable with.

I turned away and hustled up the stairs. Shadow Stalker was ahead of me, already out of sight.

At the top of the stairs, I caught a whiff of something familiar. Blood. Not much, but definitely there.

"Someone's injured," I said.

"Lead the way," Shadow Stalker replied.

I did, following the smell to another apartment. The door was locked, and I didn't want to risk another kick, so I drew my sword, hacking away at the handle. It only took two swings to get rid of the bolt and latch, and the door swung open.

"Hey! Anyone there!" I called out, stepping through.

"Here..." a faint voice said, coming from farther inside.

I followed the voice, Shadow Stalker close behind me, into a room that was superficially similar to the one the old man occupied. A chair, a TV, and some shelves. This one was coated in dust, however, and the chair was collapsed, the ruin occupied by someone who was obviously a cape, and obviously injured. How they're arrived here was equally obvious. The ceiling had a gaping hole in it where the cape had fallen through, and the debris of their entry was scattered around and over them.

Shadow Stalker moved to crouch beside them. "Broken arm for sure," she said. "Leg too. Maybe internal damage. Can you move at all?"

"No chance," the cape said, their voice pained. It was a man, I decided, though once again I was just guessing by the costume. He had a slight build, and his metal mask blurred his voice, but the hood and shrouding robe – colored in blocky patches of green and brown – seemed more like a guy thing.

"The man on the next floor down said he'd talked to you," Shadow Stalker said. "How'd you get down to him?"

"I didn't," the cape said, raising his good arm. Dust and debris swirled up into his palm, forming a tiny dog. It hopped off his hand, and more dust took its place, forming a cat that quickly joined its sibling, prowling around the room. "I can talk through them, if I focus. Kind of hard at the moment."

"Well, we need to leave," I said. "Now, if possible. Are you good to be carried?"

"Won't be fun, but I'll live," he said. "Get the old guy first, though. I'll keep."

"He won't leave," I said, "and we're running out of time. He made his choice."

"No," he said, his voice firm, even with the mask's distortion and his obvious injury. "Get the civilian out first. It's why I called in the priority alert. It's our _duty_."

I shared another quick look with Shadow Stalker, and mimed hitting him on the head. Normally it would have been a joke, but the dragon's footsteps were getting louder, rattling the building and raining debris down from the hole in the ceiling with every step. I wanted out as fast as possible.

Whether or not she shared the sentiment, Shadow Stalker seemed to get that. She didn't hit me, jokingly or not, nor did she feign outrage. She just gave a minute shake of her head, and stood up.

"We've got two people here to evacuate, and two of us," she said. "It makes more sense to get you both out of here at once."

The injured cape stared at her for a second. "But-" he started.

"Hunter will get the old man," she said, speaking over him, commanding. "I can't carry you far, but I can at least get you out of here, and out of the line of danger. Come on."

She didn't wait for an answer, bending over to scoop him up. She strained as she lifted him, and he let out a long, laboured sound from a throat that had obviously seized up in pain, partway between a groan and a squeal.

"Well, get going," she told me, voice tight with the effort of holding up the injured man. "Don't waste time."

"Right," I said, turning to go. A comment floated up in the back of my mind, about how much I liked it when she took charge, but I didn't voice it.

On the way down, I couldn't avoid looking out the window again, stopping to check the dragon's progress. It was closer, reared up, walking on its hind legs, only its lower body visible through the window, despite my position on the third floor. More capes surrounded it now, including a robotic walker that would have been huge under normal circumstances, but only reached the dragon's knee. It was latched on, fountains of sparks showering away from its chainsaw limbs as it slashed at the dragon, but the Lao-Shan paid it no attention, lumbering forward, step by step.

I tore my eyes away, hurrying back to the old man's apartment. Inside, I didn't waste any time, rushing up to ancient recliner and grabbing him by the upper arm, yanking him upright.

He swung at me, cursing me out, but I ignored him, hustling back out to the hallway in time to see Shadow Stalker struggle down the stairs. She barely spared me a look before tackling the next flight down.

"Bastard! Fascist!" the old man yelled, batting at my head with his free hand, voice pained, almost panicked. The impact was feeble. I had a harder time ignoring his stink, and the dirty grease I could feel my gauntlet shifting on.

The steady impacts on my helmet almost made me miss the fact that the dragon's footsteps had stopped.

My armband shrieked a moment later, flashing, a danger icon appearing on the screen, far too close.

"Oh hell," I said.

Another roar.

I let go of the old man, crouching down and reaching under my helmet, jamming my fingers into my ears, eyes squeezed shut. It was a pitiful defense, but it was all I had.

This close, the roar didn't just rattle me. It tore through me, a constant rolling detonation, something that had gone far past simple sound. It was an endless shockwave, an assault, and it felt like it was going to tear me apart. I lost control of my body right away, but I barely noticed, full of a pain that came from everywhere, inside and out. I could have sworn I felt bones break.

When it was over, or at least when I came to, I was sprawled on the floor, partly covered by a big chunk of drywall, fallen from the ceiling. I felt something dripping down my face, and more dripping down my legs, but I ignored all of that, climbing to my feet, desperate, only one thought on my mind.

Where was the dragon now?

It took me a minute to pull myself together enough to find the window, and when I did I felt a moment of pure relief. The dragon was nowhere to be seen.

It took me a minute longer to pull myself together enough to realize the problem with what I was seeing. The trail of destruction continued farther than I'd last seen it, a wide swath of broken buildings, torn up ground, and shattered roadways that cut a straight line from the horizon, passing just to the right of the building.

Worse, the footsteps were back.

The Lao-Shan Lung was still there. If it was out of sight of the window, that could only mean one thing. It was close. Given the direction its path led, it could be _very_ close.

I turned away from the window, ignoring the old man's body, and headed for the stairs. The footsteps shook the entire building now, as all-consuming as the roar had been, more like a giant god's heartbeat than anything as mundane as where a monster was putting its feet. I almost fell with ever step, and needed the wall to keep me steady.

Down on the second floor, Shadow Stalker was leaning up against the wall, slumped to the side, her mask off and a greenish-brown puddle on the floor beside her. More puke trickled down her chin.

She looked up as I came into view. "Hunter," she said, her voice so faint I could barely hear it. "I thought you were dead."

"Been hurt worse," I told her. "Think it burst my eardrums, though, so speak up."

"I thought you were dead," she said again, leveraging herself to her feet. I couldn't see any injuries, but with her that wasn't a surprise. Her power saw to that, most of the time. Still, given her reaction to being hit by a monster, I hadn't been sure. Still wasn't, really.

"You're okay?" I asked.

"I thought you were dead," she said again, gesturing to the corpse of the hero we'd come to save. "The roar, it just... took him apart. I thought, even you..."

"Been hurt worse," I said again. It seemed like a pretty pitiful response, but my head was swimming, and I couldn't think of anything better. I blinked a few times, trying to center myself. "We should go. I dunno where the dragon is, but it's way too close."

Her expression sharpened, and she seemed to gather herself. "Your map, idiot," she said, holding up her armband.

"Oh. Whoops," I said, holding mine up and blinking until it came into focus.

Before, the direction of the dragon had always been shown by an arrow, outside the range of what the map showed to us. Now, it was different. Less than a block away, surrounded by little crumbling wire-frame buildings, a little wire-frame Lao-Shan Lung lumbered along, still on its hind legs, passing beside the apartment building.

The tail swung, almost in slow motion, and it took me a second to realize that it was swinging at us.

Slow as it seemed on the little screen, the impact was incredible. Different than the roar. It wasn't an all-consuming presence, shaking and rattling everything, inescapable. It was sharper, though still immense. A battering ram.

It hammered into the building, already damaged from the roars and the constant quaking footsteps, and tore it from its foundations.

It was strange, in a way. Like being in a car-crash without a seatbelt, but writ large. I lost my footing as the hallway jolted sideways, and a wall flew at me, smashed into me, and I bounced off into free-fall. I tumbled, and the building tumbled, and the world tumbled, all divorced from each other, moving independently.

There was a horrible moment of impact.

For the second time in about as many minutes, I came to in a heap, lying in the corner between what had been a wall and the ceiling, both of them broken, cracks running all through them. It was dark. The window either wasn't there anymore, or it was pressed into the ground, or something.

I looked around for Shadow Stalker, but she was nowhere in sight. Which was a good thing. If she'd still been here, she'd have been dead. She would have needed her power to survive something like that, and in her shadowy state she'd probably gone through the walls. Or, maybe more accurately, they'd have gone through her. She might not even be in the building anymore.

The dragon took a step, and the broken building rumbled. My little nook swayed, and pieces of the floor and wall – now above me – showered down. One especially large chunk crashed into what had been the ceiling, punching through and lodging in the space between floors.

I could worry about Shadow Stalker later. My first priority was getting out.

Unfortunately that was easier said than done. The building had landed more or less upside down, at an angle. I'd been on the second floor, so if I tried going up, I'd need to scale one or two floors, depending on where – and if – I found an exit, and then I'd be stuck on top of a wrecked building, likely just as it started to collapse on itself. If I went down, I'd have to navigate more distance, and as I got closer to the ground the damage would likely get worse, since the upper – now lower – floors had likely taken the brunt of the landing. Plus, the lower I was when the building finally gave up the ghost, the more rubble there would be to fall on me.

I could survive a fall without much worry, even a pretty long one. Having hundreds of tons of masonry collapse on my head was another matter.

The dragon took another step, and the building shifted, dropping several feet and tilting to the side. My adrenaline spiked, and I braced myself, but it didn't fall on its side. Just settled a few feet, then stopped.

Maybe it was just the fear of that momentary fall, but 'up' felt like a better choice than 'down'. I started climbing, dragging myself up the wall, grabbing for the places where the drywall was split and cracked. It crumbled and came away in my hands as often as it held, but I managed, moving fairly quickly toward the staircase, barely visible in the light from my armband.

The stairs were simple concrete slabs, which worked out for me, since they were more or less the same upside down as right side up. Still a bit tricky given the tilt of the building, but I had little trouble getting up to what had been the ground floor.

It was, of course, destroyed. It had been torn from its foundations and sent skipping and tumbling who knew how far. I was a bit surprised it was in as good condition as it was. But it still presented me a problem. Rubble was everywhere, concrete slabs and chunks from the foundation – what had presumably been the walls of the basement – filled sections of the hallway, and while I could see evening light above me, coming from cracks in what had been the floor, I wasn't feeling up to jumping for them, even assuming that anything up there was stable enough to support me.

Worse, the stairs had been close to the front door, and I'd been hoping to be able to just exit through there, whether it led to a fall or to a slide down the side of the building. No such luck. It was blocked by rubble, enough that I wasn't confident I'd have time to dig my way out, if I was even strong enough with all my injuries.

Another footstep came, and the rubble settled, grinding and creaking. The building swayed, either because the ground was quaking or because it was getting ready to fall. Either way I didn't have much time.

I scented the air, hoping for... something. I didn't care what. A hint of fresh air, maybe, something to lead me to a hole in a wall somewhere. What I smelled instead was vomit. Faint, but there, different from the smell that wafted up the stairs I'd just ascended. That was fouler, the smell of death. I assumed from the dead hero. This newer scent was fresh, and I could only think of one person who it could be.

I hurried toward it, climbing over or crawling under the debris, doing my best to keep a grip on a wall that was tilting more as time went on.

I clambered over an upside down doorframe, into a first floor apartment with all the furniture tumbled together in a heap off to the side, and came face to face with Shadow Stalker. Favoring her left leg, but still moving easier than I was.

I barely had time to feel a knot of tension loosen in my chest before she wrapped her arms around me, pressing herself to me.

"Oh my god, I thought you were dead. Again." She let go with one arm to smack the side of my head. "Stop doing that to me."

"I keep telling you I'm tough," I said, doing my best to ignore the wet rumbling in my chest as I spoke. "Not my fault you don't listen."

She pulled me into another quick but ferocious hug. "I can pay you back for that later," she said. "Come on."

"You know a way out?" I asked.

"No, but you can probably make one. Should be a window in the living room, if we can get there."

She moved off, and I followed, picking my way around a gaping crack that was half-filled with a fallen side table.

"Sounds like you could have left without me," I said as we went. "Glad you didn't. I would have worried about you."

She didn't answer for a second.

"Later," she said. "Not now."

"Works for me," I said.

We made our way to the window, sliding down over the busted furniture, fallen concrete, and other crud, then braced as another footfall rumbled through us. The building tilted more, the slow slide setting my heart hammering. It didn't collapse, though. Just stopped a few degrees closer to disaster.

Once things had settled again, I wasted no time in bracing myself against the window frame and half kicking, half stomping at it. It was shuttered, but with the glass already gone, it didn't last long. Wooden slats splintered and fell away, down to the ground far below us.

"It's a long fall," Shadow Stalker said, peering around my shoulder. "Should we try to find a rope, or a bed sheet or something?"

"Nah, it's fine," I said. It looked like the upper – now lower – levels of the building were partly crumpled, and combined with the increasing tilt I figured it was a bit less than a two-story fall. Still a lot for most people, but not me. "I'll go first."

She gestured, and I didn't hesitate, stepping forward to drop through the shattered window. I fell, the wind whipping past me, and landed in a roll on a mound of loose earth and cracked asphalt that had been pushed ahead of the building when it landed.

Shadow Stalker landed beside me a moment later, light on her feet, and cast a look up at the apartment building. It loomed over us, the top lost in the haze of dust that floated everywhere, bits and pieces – and bricks – falling steadily. The building was creaking as it tilted further, slowly but visibly.

We left without a word, running over the mounded earth and hopping between jagged pieces of broken roadway.

Impossible as it seemed, though, we'd forgotten something.

The dragon.

It emerged out of the dust ahead of us, moving on all fours, its giant head leading the way. That head seemed bigger than the building we'd just left, rust red and dull grey, with huge tusks, horns, and fangs projecting out of it, arrayed to crush or bulldoze anything out of its path. It's eyes were tiny pinpricks set well back, surrounded by ridges of horn and scale, sweeping over us without noticing us, as if we weren't even worthy of attention.

With that sight in view, I barely noticed the flashes of light or the sounds of explosions as the defending forces bombarded it. They just didn't rate.

I could have blamed my injuries, or disorientation, or my desperation to just get out before hundreds of tons of broken building collapsed around me, but at no point since the building had landed had I considered where the dragon actually was. The tail had been sweeping toward the building, but we'd been _beside_ the dragon's path of advance. To have ended up in front of it, the tail must have curled around before it hit, or something. It was the only thing I could think of, apart from maybe some kind of spacial warping, from one of the capes fighting it.

Whatever had caused it, the reason didn't matter. We had to get away. Going back wasn't an option. We'd either be crushed under the building or trapped between it and the dragon. Going forward equally wasn't an option. There was a dragon there. Our only choice, and the one we made together, without thinking, was to go sideways.

We both turned in unison and started sprinting away on a diagonal, but right away I knew it was a race we couldn't win. The Lao-Shan Lung's movements were sluggish, lazy, but on an immense scale. Our fastest speed wasn't half what it could manage at a casual crawl.

A giant foot surged out of the dust, bigger than a school bus, taloned and armor-plated. It smashed into the ground behind us, sinking feet deep into the road to the sound of cracking asphalt. The impact drove us both off our feet, sending us tumbling and bouncing as the earth shuddered.

I rolled over in time to see the huge head swinging our way, jaws opening, foetid breath washing over us.

I froze, icy fear like a shock of cold water running up my spine, but the dragon paid us no attention. Its head went over us, revealing a neck covered in smooth, pale plates, then smashed into another building, sending it crashing down. I barely noticed the small, flying figure that darted out of the head's path just before impact.

We scrambled up and kept running, flat out, without thought. I didn't turn around to see what the dragon was doing, I barely even looked where I was going, just as long as it was _away_.

We ran, and ran, driven by the monstrous footsteps, by the fear of another roar, until running became impossible.

We stopped, panting, almost ten blocks away. Shadow Stalker's hand was gripped tight in mine, and she was squeezing back, no interest in letting go.

"I thought we were dead. Again. We almost died again. How..." She trailed off, then swallowed hard. "We let those people die."

It took me a moment to make the connection. The old man and the hero with the broken arm and leg.

"Nothing we could have done," I said. "Even if we got them out right away, we wouldn't have been out of range of the roar."

Yeah," she said. "You're right." She turned to me. "Does it... I dunno, bother you?"

"No," I said. "Ask me again later, maybe, but I doubt I'll say anything different."

"No, it's fine," she said, turning away. "Forget it."

I couldn't be sure, given that my ears were still ringing and my head was pounding a steady beat in time with the dragon's footsteps, but she didn't sound upset. The opposite, if anything. Almost relieved.

She reluctantly loosened her grip on my hand, and I let go, my arm flopping to my side.

"Back to work, I guess," she said.

I checked my armband. There was already another arrow there, pointing to a grid a bit behind the Lao-Shan's line of advance.

"Guess so," I said.

The fight, in some ways, seemed to be winding down, even while it very distinctly heated up. There were less capes needing rescue now, presumably because most of them that could get injured already had been during the hours the dragon had been in the city. For the same reason there weren't any civilians left, all of them having been moved out long ago. So for the most part we just kept up appearances, moving where the armband told us, searching the buildings for people we knew weren't there, and occasionally arranging pickup for a hero that had got unlucky, or just run out of juice.

Several times we saw flights of planes pass overhead. Sometimes mundane, sometimes tinkertech, their passage usually followed by earth-shaking explosions.

We saw the dragon again too, from a distance. Each time more injured than the last, though it kept up its advance. A few things slowed it down. A giant wall of ice and stone, raised in its path, held for almost ten minutes. A tornado of fire slowed it nearly as long, though it never managed to stop it. A localized reversal of gravity lifted it into the air, though that backfired as the dragon crashed back down, levelling an entire city block before getting up, none the worse for wear.

The whole time, Shadow Stalker was slowing down, laboring more and more as she jogged across streets and leapt through walls. Finally, as the sky started to darken, she faltered, and fell.

I rushed over and knelt beside her. I reached out, but she waved an arm at me, brushing me away.

"I'm fine," she grit out. "Stomach cramps."

"The potion," I said.

She nodded. "Maybe. Probably."

"Can you go on?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Even if I could, we're useless out here." She turned to me. "You're not doing so well, yourself."

"Huh?" I said.

She pointed to my crotch, and my eyebrows shot up, but she just backhanded me across the chest. "You're bleeding, retard," she said. "From under your armor. Looks like you've been pissing blood."

I looked down. She was right. Blood had leaked out from under my armor's skirt, staining the front of my pants red.

"How long?" I asked.

"A bit," she said. "Didn't want to mention it if you weren't going to."

"I guess we're done, then," I said, my face screwing up. I didn't even try to hide my bitterness.

"Yeah," she said, her own voice blending some bitterness and some relief. "Should I make the call?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding to her. "Thanks."

"No problem. Figured you wouldn't want to do it."

"Yeah," I said again.

We'd seen over a dozen different mover powers over the course of the fight. Flight, super speed, teleportation, burrowing. Several helicopter airlifts too. One of them had obviously been tinker-made. This time it was teleportation. A man appeared with a dull thunderclap. He had a blue and black uniform with a lightning bolt on the chest, and a small cap. He glanced over us impassively as we crouched on the ground, then nodded, and in a flash of light we were somewhere else.

Back at the rolling command post, people shouted, rushing around in a controlled panic, as they had been when we left. There was a different edge to it now, though. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Somehow, it felt important.

The teleporter had dropped us off about ten feet from a white vehicle, tall, with treads and a red cross on the side. Two people, a man and a woman in scrubs and facemasks, rushed out, eyes roving over us.

"Can you stand?" the woman asked, gaze shifting from Shadow Stalker to me and back.

"Yeah," I said. "Stalker?"

"Sure," she said, planting her hands on her knees and forcing herself to her feet.

"Then unless you're critical, get yourself to a bed," she said, gesturing behind the vehicle, to where a series of trucks and jeeps sat.

While she was talking, the man rushed over to me, but I waved him off, climbing to my feet.

"I'm a brute," I told him. "I heal. Just sort of reached my limit for now."

He slowed to a stop and gave me a dubious look, eyeing my bloody pants. "Then do what Mary said. Get to a bed. We'll get you to a hospital as soon as we can." He paused. "As soon as one's safe."

I nodded, not wanting to say anything, and the two of them hurried back into the vehicle.

"You coming?" Shadow Stalker asked, stepping toward the trucks.

"I..." I shook my head. "No, not yet. I want to see the end of this."

"Okay," she said, stepping over to me. "How?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. But I don't want it to end..." I waved around us. "Like this."

"Okay."

I looked around, trying to get oriented, figure out what direction the fight was in. It wasn't hard. The pounding of the Lao-Shan Lung's advance filled the area, nearly directionless, but the sounds of the fight itself were more focused, easier to isolate. I followed them, skirting past vehicles and cordoned off sections of street. Shadow Stalker walked with me, arms clenched to her stomach, though she didn't complain.

Eventually I saw it. For most of the fight, the elder dragon had been advancing somewhat diagonally to the city grid. Not following the roads. Smashing at an angle through any buildings in its way. It had made getting a sight of it uncommon, only happening when both we and it were crossing a road at the same time.

It was doing that now, slogging out of the ruins of a fallen building, sending waves of wreckage ahead of it with each footstep. It was more injured, now. One of its eyes was out, a deep gouge down its muzzle, and its stomach had been sliced open near the chest. One of its forelegs was missing several claws, and blood poured from the severed digits in a thick stream, rather than clotting.

My breathing sped up, and my heart beat harder. This was what I'd felt. We were winning, finally, and I could see why.

The Triumvirate had arrived.

Legend was the most obvious. He flew around the dragon, a living streak of light, fans and torrents of lasers pouring from his hands, smashing into the elder dragon. They were nearly too bright to look at, blue-white, like his costume, each one doing something different. Sections of the carapace froze, or burst into flame, or twisted strangely. The damage wasn't much, even the power of one of the world's strongest blasters unable to penetrate the creature's armor. But it added up, and the dragon couldn't respond. Legend was simply too fast.

Alexandria was there too, a dark streak flying in, hard to see in the billowing dust. She rammed into the Lao-Shan's chin, snapping its mouth shut and knocking its head upward. It recovered quickly, snapping at her, but she curved away, avoiding the clumsy attempt to bite.

Of the three, the one to do the most damage was Eidolon. He hovered in front of the dragon, even with its head, flying steadily backward, matching its advance. Light glowed under his green robe, setting the flared sleeves of his costume fluttering, then coalesced in a flash, streaking toward the dragon and burying itself feet-deep in its gut.

The monster roared, but Eidolon raised a hand, and the air between him and the dragon warped, drawing in, the sound somehow absorbed into his grasp, before being fired back in a beam that blew a hole in the dust and knocked the Lao-Shan Lung several steps back.

"That's... Holy shit," Shadow Stalker said.

"Yeah," I agreed. Some feeling twisted in my gut, and I had to admit that it wasn't all admiration or ruptured organs.

There were others there, too. The big names in the Protectorate. Arrived from wherever they'd been. Called back from missions, most likely. I recognized Rime, and finally pegged her as the person who'd helped make the ice wall earlier, and likely other walls that I hadn't seen. She tossed glittering shards at the dragon's feet that exploded into virtual glaciers, stopping its advance for a moment before it smashed through, its immense jaws reaching out toward her.

Narwhal intervened. The huge woman, lithe and nearly naked, body covered in glittering, faceted shards, stepped into the way, hands held out in front of her, palms toward the dragon. Dozens of razor-sharp forcefields sprung into existence in the dragon's path. Its massive head – easily bigger than the entire daimyo hermitaur had been – smashed through them, but they bit in deeply, drawing blood, and it recoiled.

It rose up onto its hind legs again, took a few huge steps forward, then fell, massive bulk plunging down toward the two women.

It didn't hit them. Chevalier stepped into existence, gold and silver armor shining, and I barely noticed the man in deep purple robes standing beside him, hand on his shoulder. A teleporter, I assumed, or something like that.

Chevalier took his cannonblade in both hands and swung it up to meet the falling dragon. The weapon grew with the swing, expanding, becoming enormous. A blade to match the scale of the dragon it was meant to slay. Fifty feet long. More. It slammed into the Lao-Shan, bit deeper than anything else had, and deflected its fall, slamming the giant dragon into the side of a building, then through it. Brick and mortar collapsed onto the monster, half-burying it. It got up again, shaking it off, but it had another gash in its side now. An injury that even it had to feel.

It continued like that. Teamwork. A dozen powerful, world-renowned heroes, working together, covering each other. Tearing the dragon to pieces.

I realized that I was biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, and spun around. I'd seen all I wanted to.

"Come on," I said to Shadow Stalker, hurrying back toward the medical trucks.

The dragon wasn't dead yet, but for me, the fight was over.


	13. Gone Fishin'

**Chapter Thirteen: Gone Fishin'**

"Out of the way! Out of the way!"

I stepped aside, pressing myself up against the wall as a flock of doctors and nurses rushed a gurney past me. It was gone in a flurry of white fabric, lending the hallway an enhanced smell of antiseptic and blood for a moment, before it faded back to background levels.

Hospitals were always uncomfortable places to be, for a healthy person. I'd found them even more uncomfortable since I'd stopped needing them. Even my worst injuries healed with enough rest and food. For me, a tossed-aside couch in an alley by the docks was as good a place to recover as a million-dollar hospital room with a thousand beeping gadgets and a closet stuffed with the most cutting-edge medicines. Better, even. The alley's smell was a lot more tolerable.

Explaining that to doctors never seemed to go well. They always seemed to take it as an insult, rather than a basic fact.

I stayed where I was, watching as dozens of people carefully eased away from the walls, looking up and down the hall before moving on again. I'd learned the hard way that the gurneys didn't stop for anything.

Seconds later, the momentarily interrupted rush was in full swing again. Most people that zipped through the halls were obviously staff. Doctors, hurrying by quickly enough that their white coats flapped behind them. Nurses in hospital uniforms, all of them with half-panicked expressions on their faces and hands full of either paperwork or coffee cups. Sometimes both. They all shared the same dark circles under their eyes. Others were the sort I pegged as administrative staff. Suits rather than scrubs, though they had the same harried appearance. Rumpled clothes and frazzled hair. None of them, clearly, had slept in a long while.

There were more, of course. Protectorate employees, in both suits and armor. The first type were similar to the hospital staff, rushing around with arms full of paperwork or talking into a cellphone as they scurried by. The second type were more sedate, standing guard in front of occupied sick rooms, guns on slings over their shoulders or held at the ready, carefully observing everyone that passed by them.

Of all the hundreds of people I'd passed in the last few minutes, only the guards had given me a second glance. Or even a first one, most of the time.

The reason wasn't that surprising. Normally, capes were a rarity. Enough so that a random person on the street could go years without seeing one in the flesh. Here, there were another seven just in my line of sight, moving through the halls just like anyone else, and given just as little attention. Too many individual crises to tend to. No time for a sight that had probably become common to all the hospital staff since the dragon had attacked.

Not that I was much different. I didn't recognize most of the capes around me, nor did I pay them that much attention. They were from all over the country, after all, with a few from other nations that didn't close their portals. The UK, France, Japan, South Korea, China, and more that I couldn't peg as easily.

My eyes did catch on one specific individual as she walked down the hall. People made way for her as much as they did for the gurneys that were still common, rushing critical patients to surgery. She didn't wear a costume, at least not that I could tell. She didn't need one. Her entire body blazed with light, bright enough to outshine the already over-bright fluorescents in the ceiling.

Purity. A local villain. I'd heard of her. She'd had a bad reputation as a _villain_ -villain, up until a few years back. An old-style gangster, focused on crime rather than hunting monsters. Part of one of the gangs that hadn't changed with the times, one of the very few that had stayed strong enough to fight off the PRTCJ. Purity had been a large part of that, or so I'd heard.

She caught me staring as she approached, and slowed to a stop next to me.

"If you're injured, intake is down on the first floor," she said. Her voice, in contrast to her burning-magnesium appearance, was normal. Confident, even aggressive, but that was all. I didn't feel any heat radiating off her either, which surprised me more than it probably should have. Even weirder, I smelled a faint hint of perfume and deodorant, just barely noticeable under the overpowering hospital stink.

"Oh, uh, I'm fine," I said, rapping a knuckle against my breastplate. "All healed up."

She glanced down, the motion difficult to see with the glare that surrounded her.

I shifted my legs, keenly aware of the dried blood that coated my pants. "That's from something else," I explained.

"If you say so," she said, clearly skeptical. She paused for a moment, and if it had been anyone else, I would have said they were lost for words. "You were here to fight?"

My mouth twisted slightly. "Just search and rescue," I said.

She nodded absently. "That's admirable," she said. "Necessary, even. Thank you, on behalf of the city."

"Uh, sure," I said. "Any time."

She nodded again, then continued down the hall. I watched her go, frowning, until she rounded a corner.

 _Well that was weird._

I shook my head, trying to focus. Without a threat or a goal to focus on, my body was informing me of how much I'd pushed it recently. Even beyond my injuries – thankfully well on their way to healing – my stomach was a hollow pit, and my head was fuzzy, despite the fact that I'd had almost a full day of sleep. I wanted nothing so much as to stuff myself to bursting, then sleep for a week. But a hospital – much less one in the aftermath of a crisis – wasn't the place to do it.

I pushed off the wall with a grunt, then stretched my arms over my head, joints popping. A few people glanced my way, but ultimately ignored me.

"Okay," I said out loud. "Room three-seventy-four."

Hospital corridors passed me by, each distressingly similar to the one before. I was sure that some people would have been able to tell one from another, know what differences the individual departments had, but I wasn't one of them. To me it was all a blur – or worse, a maze – with only occasional signs to tell me where I was, and whether I was going the wrong way.

That, I had to admit, happened more than I would have liked. The signs near the ceiling, the arrows on the walls and floors, they seemed to be set up for some kind of alien. The sort that thought in ways just a bit sideways to humans. Nothing was totally clear, and everything could mean two things, one of which was inevitably wrong.

Eventually, despite the intentions of whoever had designed the place, I reached my goal. A door like any other, in the middle of a hall that might as well have been the same one I'd emerged into when I'd finally woken up.

I checked the number very carefully, looking around to make sure I was actually, finally, in the right place. Then I knocked, rapping my gauntlet against the wood a few times.

"What?!" Shadow Stalker called from inside.

"It's Hunter!" I called back. "Can I come in!?"

"I don't know if you're supposed to!" she said.

"Good enough for me," I replied, pushing down the lever that served as a doorknob, opening the door.

"Should have known you'd take that as a yes," Shadow Stalker said as I eased the door closed behind me, cutting off the babble and the stink of the place.

"Probably," I agreed, looking around. Her room was obviously different from the one I'd woken up in, but I couldn't pinpoint how. Different machines, in different positions, with different labels and warnings.

The bed Shadow Stalker was lying in was identical, though. A thin, likely uncomfortable mattress with threadbare sheets and a totally sub-par blanket, all on top of a gleaming contrivance with more buttons and tubes than... I couldn't really think of what. Either way, it was ridiculous. If they could spring for a machine-slash-bed that could roll around on motorized wheels, raise and lower, tilt, fold, and had various types of monitoring or drug-dispensing equipment, they could have spent a bit to make it actually comfortable.

"Yo, Earth to Hunter," Shadow Stalker said, sitting up to snap her fingers. "You there?"

I blinked, looking up at Shadow Stalker herself. She looked... Odd. Her mask was on, but her costume was gone, replaced with a hospital gown. It was a weird contrast, and equally weird in that I couldn't get a sense of how she was doing. What skin I could see – on her arms and neck – was unmarred, but the smooth, dark curves of muscle and tendon didn't tell me anything. Between her mask and the blanket that covered her legs, any other signs of health – or its lack – were hidden.

It was both comforting and worrying, not being able to see how bad things were.

"I'm here," I said. "How about you?"

She shrugged, settling back against her pillow. The bed was folded up, more of a lounger than anything else, and she looked comfortable. No hitch in her movements, not favoring any kind of injury.

"I'm fine," she said. "I had a bit of a scare when I started pissing blood last night, but apparently it was a false alarm. The doctors did a bunch of tests and shit, but couldn't find any problems. They want me to stay a while, though. For observation."

"Probably my fault," I said. "I was doing some thinking about the potion. The mushroom I used probably concentrated the herb's healing properties. Blood clotting, analgesic, and stuff to increase blood flow. Plus some stuff to increase metabolism, prevent actual clots, production of some-"

"Tinker shit," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Whatever. Get to the point."

"Not much more to it," I said. "The potion cuts pain, rapidly enhances healing, prevents swelling from injuries, but it also gathers up and carries all the waste through your body extra-fast. Dead blood cells, damaged tissue, whatever. It's gotta go somewhere."

"So I ended up pissing it out," she said. "Okay. Not that bad. Some cramps and a minor scare. Sure as shit better than a month in the hospital."

"Well..." I said. "It's probably not over quite yet."

"Normally I'd ask if you're trying to be funny, but I think I know the answer by now," she said, crossing her arms under her chest. "Out with it."

"Funny you say that," I said, reaching a hand around my back and pointing at my ass. "Not just urine."

"Great," she said, deadpan. "Fucking great."

"Pretty sure it was designed for me, rather than anyone else" I explained. "I figure that with my power I'd normally re-metabolize the waste. So no side-effects. Doesn't help you much."

"You're gonna make this up to me, you know," she said. I grinned. "Not like that, idiot. I'm gonna find something that hurts."

"I did save you a month in the hospital," I pointed out. "You said it yourself."

She unfolded her arms, gesturing around the room. "And yet, here I am," she said.

"Yeah, but not for a month," I protested.

"Hunter, I'm pissed off, lying in a shitty hospital bed with no phone and nothing to do, and you're telling me I'm going to shit blood some time in the near future. You are _fucking_ paying me back for this."

"Fine," I conceded. I leveled my finger at her. "But you're gonna pay me back for paying you back."

She chuckled. "Fine. I can guess what you'll ask for, but don't push it too far."

"No, this isn't about playing kissy-face. Though, I mean, if you're up for it..." I trailed off suggestively, but she just stared me down. "Anyway," I continued. "No, if you want me to pay you back, my price is that we get the hell out of here."

"In case you didn't make the connection, I want to be here about as much as I want cancer, MS, and AIDS," she said. "But the doctors want me to stay for observation, and there's forms to fill out and shit. Paperwork."

"Yeah, and?" I asked. "Are they gonna stop us or something?"

She made an annoyed sound. "We're Protectorate," she said. "There's rules. They might not stop us, but they can still punish us after the fact. Especially now. This is an elder dragon event."

"The elder dragon's gone, though," I pointed out. "Dead."

"That doesn't mean it's over," she countered. "Capes come to these from all over the world. Heroes and villains both. Even _villains_ , if you get my drift. It's too delicate to let anyone fuck it up. This is serious shit, Hunter."

"And?" I repeated. "Not like we'll be spying on anyone or anything. We'll just walk out the front door, on camera and everything. You know all that shit Rifle's been saying, about how they need us? Well if so they're sure as hell not gonna throw us under a bus for leaving the hospital a bit early. Not a very big bus, at least."

"It's still gonna be trouble," she said.

"I don't think it will," I protested. "Besides, is this really what you want, being stuck here, staring at the walls with nothing to do? Because honestly, I can think of about a million better ways to spend my time."

"Oh fuck you, Hunter. You used the same lines to get me to fight an elder dragon, which is why I'm here in the first place," she snapped. Her tone wasn't that angry, though. Or at least not angry at me.

"Am I wrong?" I asked. "If you tell me, honestly, that you'd rather stay here and wait out any tests and observations they want to do, that's fine. I'll even stay with you, keep you from going insane with boredom."

"God, you're a pest," she said, pulling her pillow out from behind her and throwing it at me. I caught it easily, put it under my arm. "Well?" she asked. "Get out of here. I'm not gonna change with you staring at me."

"A pity," I said. She threw the blanket next, and I caught it just as easily.

She made a shooing motion, and I grinned, saluting her with the blanket.

I left, slipping out the door as quietly as I could, so as not to draw attention. A fruitless task, with a pillow under one arm and a blanket under the other. But even looking as odd as I did, nobody said anything. Few of them even paid me any attention, and when they did it was just a brief, puzzled look before they hurried off to wherever they'd been going.

Shadow Stalker phased through the door a few minutes later, appearing beside me.

"You gonna keep those?" she asked.

"Nah," I said, dropping the pillow and blanket to the floor. "Let's go."

We left. Shadow Stalker proved way more adept than me at navigating the halls, as well as avoiding attention. We made it out of the hospital easily, slipping out the front door without any comments or anyone trying to stop us.

As soon as we emerged into the parking lot, I took a deep breath through my nose, then let it out slowly. Dust still hung in the air, even a day after the Lao-Shan Lung had died, rendering the late afternoon sky hazy, like a thick, tan-colored fog.

"Wonderful day," I said. "So, you're from Boston, right? Where to?"

"I'm not from here originally," she said, looking around. "You know which hospital this is?"

"Boston Medical Center," I said. "Closest place to the attack, since Massachusetts General got wrecked by the dragon."

"Okay, I can work with that," she said, tapping her mask's lips with her finger. She stopped, then turned to me. "Actually, I just thought of a great way to make you pay."

"Ominous," I said. "Tell me more."

"Oh no," she said. "I want you to squirm."

"Kinky." I paused. "What, no punch?"

"Not this time," she said.

"Okay, I'm actually starting to get a bit freaked out," I told her.

"Perfect," she replied. "Come on."

The city had been hit hard by the dragon. I'd seen that myself. It had rampaged for almost half a day, cutting a line straight through the city. I'd watched some of the coverage on a TV in my hospital room, and while the cost of the damage was still being tallied, everyone seemed to agree that it would easily run into multiple billions of dollars. Casualties were less significant, mostly concentrated around the time the dragon had first emerged. It had moved slowly enough that evacuations weren't much of a problem.

But as bad as it was, the damage had been fairly limited, confined to that one long channel, without the secondary effects other elder dragons could cause. No storms, like the Kushala Daora could generate, or the fires that followed a Lunastra or Teostra.

So it was a bit surprising to find that public transit was closed down. No subway. No buses. Not even any taxis, though I didn't know if that was linked to the attack, or if they just weren't as common in Boston as they were in New York.

Shadow Stalker didn't seem to mind. She led us with confidence, south through eerily empty, dust-choked streets. Every business we passed was closed, even corner stores and gas stations. The fact that we were headed away from the site of the attack meant that there was very little actual damage, but that just made things more creepy. If I hadn't been able to hear the hum of electricity through power lines, and the occasional engine of a car passing somewhere nearby, I would have sworn there was nobody in the city at all.

Shadow Stalker was quiet on the way, not speaking, and I was fine with that. We were out of the hospital, we were moving, and that was enough for me.

As we went, the dust thinned out, looking more like the aftermath of a storm and less like the end of the world. Bigger buildings and stores became less common, replaced with blocks of houses, steadily lowering in quality the further south we walked.

Eventually Shadow Stalker turned off the main road and headed down a side street into an obviously residential area. She started looking around more, head turning to examine every house we passed. More than once she took a sudden turn and jogged away from an advancing car.

My stomach started to sink as we slowed down, and her caution reached an even higher level. I'd been through this before.

"You bitch," I whispered as we came to stop, hidden behind a fence, out of sight of the road. "You absolute, total bitch."

"I told you I'd make you pay," she said. There was no other term for her voice than 'gloating'.

"We're going to meet your family," I said, hoping against hope that I was wrong.

"Bingo," she said, rolling the word around, relishing it.

She stood up, grabbing me by the bicep and pulling me along behind her. I could have resisted. Her power let her get out of almost any situation, but it didn't make her any stronger. If I'd dug in my heels, there wasn't any way she could have made me move.

I didn't, though. I just let her drag me behind her as she snuck around the back of a modest two-story house. It was older, obviously. There was some damage, in places. The siding was peeling, and the lawn was patchy where the sun didn't hit it. Some of the paving stones in the patio were cracked, and there was grass growing up between them. A normal family home, in other words. Something lived in long enough for flaws to become normal, and ignored.

There was a sliding door at the back, and Shadow Stalker let go of my arm to open it. She hesitated for a second, then walked through.

"I'm home!" she called out.

"Sophia!" A woman's voice, quickly followed by the woman herself. She was older, wearing jeans and a button-up blouse. She looked tired, and the clothes looked just a bit old. A perfect fit to the house. Maintenance falling behind, flaws accepted rather than fought.

The woman rushed up to Shadow Stalker. To Sophia. "Damn," I muttered.

They didn't hug, which was a relief. The woman just put her hands on Shadow Stalker's shoulders, looking her over. Her eyes caught on the bloodstains, the desert sand, the concrete dust.

"You're alright," she said, partway between a question and a statement. "I heard you were out on a mission, when it happened. But we didn't hear from you..."

"Got back in time," Shadow Stalker said. "Did search and rescue again. I'm fine."

I took note of that 'again'. Filed it away.

"I'm glad you're okay," the woman said, stepping back and clasping her hands together in front of her. She turned to me, her expression awkward. "You're... Hunter?" I noted the pause before my cape name. How unnatural it sounded, coming from her mouth.

I gave her a lame little wave. "That's me," I said.

"Do you two-" she stopped. "Do you want somewhere to... change? Or, we're going to eat soon? Oh! Emma and Taylor are here, up in your room. They were worried-"

"It's fine, mom," Shadow Stalker said. "We won't be staying." Relief surged through me. "Just wanted to stop in, see that you made it through okay. There's... paperwork and stuff to do. The mission, and the dragon."

"Oh," her mother said, something between disappointment and relief in her voice. "Alright. Will you be back later, or are you staying in Philadelphia again?"

"Probably staying on base," Shadow Stalker said.

Her mother nodded. "I've got to get back to cooking dinner." She turned to me again. "It was nice to meet you... Hunter."

"You too," I said.

She hurried off, and I turned to Shadow Stalker

"So..." I said. "You've got a mom, I see."

"Am I supposed to get something from that?" Shadow Stalker asked, stepping into the house. She undid her cloak and swung it off her shoulders, folding it up.

"I am super uncomfortable right now," I said.

"Good," she said. "Come on."

She walked further into the house. I sighed, but followed her.

Inside, the place was nicer than I'd expected, given the exterior. The floors and carpets were clean, pictures hung on the walls, and the furniture wasn't new, but it wasn't old either. No peeled wallpaper or faded paint. The place wasn't perfectly tidy, of course. We passed a living room, and I could see kids' toys scattered around, and an overflowing bin of them shoved up against a wall. More evidence of family. A younger sibling, probably.

The stairs to the second floor were in the front hall. Shadow Stalker stopped there for a second, leaning against the wall and sticking her head into the kitchen.

"Is Terry here?" she asked.

"He's at Jenny's place," the mother replied. "He should be back soon, if you want to wait for him."

"Nah," she replied. "Just tell him I'm okay."

"I will."

Shadow Stalker nodded to herself, then headed upstairs. Even before we reached the top, I could hear people talking. Two girls around our age, and a much younger voice, coming from a door near the end of the hall.

"I'm back!" Shadow Stalker called out as she approached, and the voices cut off abruptly. The door opened a moment later, and the owners of the voices emerged.

I'd been right about the two girls. They were teenagers, one with shorter red hair, one with longer black hair. The red-headed girl was undeniably hot, a fact I couldn't help noticing immediately – her short sleeveless top and too-tight jeans wouldn't allow it – even as her eyes widened at the sight of me. She wasn't my type, though. Too short. She wouldn't have even come up to my chest. The dark-haired girl wasn't as pretty. More of a nerd, if I wanted to be blunt about it. She had thick glasses and a knit sweater a size too big for her. It almost prevented me from noticing the way her left arm ended at the elbow, or the scars tracing up the same shoulder to her neck.

"Oh, Hunter," the redhead said. She turned to Shadow Stalker. "Uh, don't know how much I should say..."

"Say what you want, he won't give a shit," Shadow Stalker said carelessly, marching toward them. She held her arms open, and the redhead virtually sprang forward, squeezing her into a hug.

"God, you stink, Soph," she said a second later, pushing Shadow Stalker away and wrinkling her nose. Then she looked down to see the crud that covered her clothes. "Oh, you're evil!"

Shadow Stalker chuckled. "Yep," she said, then looked to the dark-haired girl. "Hey, Taylor. Sup?"

"Not much," Taylor answered carefully, which would make the redhead Emma. "You said you weren't going to bring him back here."

Shadow Stalker shrugged. "Changed my mind," she said, simply.

"You said he wouldn't want to come," Taylor added, her tone pointed.

"I didn't," I said.

Emma mimed surprise. "He can talk! Oh, that was rude. Sorry, Hunter. Sophia said you weren't smart enough for conversation."

"Ugh," I said. "Ook ook."

Emma giggled, and Taylor's mouth quirked up at the corner, the first thing remotely like an expression that she'd shown.

Emma shook her arms, sending bits of crusted sand and dust to the carpet. "Bitch-move aside, I'm glad you're okay," she told Shadow Stalker. "When we didn't hear... yeah."

"Yeah yeah, save the waterworks," She replied. "And get out of here for a bit. Take the rugrat. I want a bit of private time. We can catch up more later."

"Oh?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows and looking toward me. She grinned. "Sure, sure. Don't let us get in the way. We'll go help your mom with dinner."

"God, is that the only thing any of you can think of?" Shadow Stalker asked, putting her fists on her hips. "Go, you saucy bitches. Get outta here."

Emma laughed, but didn't complain, brushing by me as she flounced off down the hall. Taylor was more sedate, moving to collect a little girl from Shadow Stalker's room before following Emma. She gave me an appraising look as she went by, but didn't say anything.

"Well, guess we shouldn't disappoint their expectations," I said once they were gone.

Shadow Stalker responded with a punch to my shoulder. "Maybe later," she said.

She walked into her room, and I followed. It was... normal. A twin-sized bed, a bookshelf, a desk with an old laptop on it – closed – and a crowded vanity. I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Candles?" I asked. "Pretty girly."

"Not all of us enjoy smelling like wyvern shit all day," she said, moving over to the computer desk. She pulled out the little rolling chair there, spread her cloak over it – lining down, to keep the chair clean – and sat.

I didn't answer, wandering over to the bed. The wall above it was covered in pictures. A few family photos. More of them had Emma in them. Shadow Stalker wasn't masked in any of them. I turned away quickly, moved to sit down on the bed.

"Don't-!" Shadow Stalker shouted, reaching out to me, but it was too late. I settled to the bed, and she pressed her hand to her forehead. "Motherfucker," she snarled.

"It'll wash out," I told her. "Nice room, by the way. At least it's not pink."

She calmed herself down with an obvious effort of will. "Don't think you're going to distract me that easily," she said. "I mean, you're going to pay for getting my bed dirty-" I wiggled my eyebrows. "Fuck, walked right into that," she muttered. "Never mind. Point is, Hunter, we need to talk."

"Ominous," I said again. "Are we breaking up?"

She snorted. "Fuck no. If we were breaking up, I wouldn't have brought you to my house, retard."

"Fair point," I said.

"Don't be like that," she said. "This isn't a fucking execution. I'm just... being a bit selfish, I guess."

"That, at least, I can get behind," I said, then paused. "If you catch my drift."

her hand flickered, and a little knife embedded itself in my armor, phasing in just above my collarbone.

"Fair point," I said again, yanking it out. A little chunk of armor came with it. I tossed it back to her, and she caught it easily, flicking her hand and making it disappear as quickly as it had appeared. "So, being selfish?"

"Yeah," said. "You've been saying I should go with what I feel, right?" I nodded. "Well, I feel like I want more out of you. And no, not like that," she paused. "At least not yet. I mean, shit, don't mistake me here, it's been great." She paused again, absently lifting a hand to trail her fingers across her mask's lips. "More than great. I wouldn't put up with your shit if it wasn't."

"Fair point," I said a third time. "I'm all for this, by the way. If you want something, don't wait for it, don't bullshit about it. Just take it, and deal with whatever comes."

"Yeah," she said, her voice lower, almost fond. "Yeah, that's part of what I like about you, you know? So yeah, I want you, and I'm gonna have you. As more than just a teammate who I can fool around with."

She reached up to her mask, flicked the clasp, and pulled it over head head. Then she took hold of her under-mask, but hesitated, looking at me.

"I won't stop you," I said. "I won't promise anything, but I won't stop you."

She smiled, half annoyed, half something else. "I'm not asking for permission," she said. "You can say whatever shit you want, but I saw how you looked at me, after the crab hit me. Whatever you felt then, it inspired you to cook up a potion in ten seconds that you'd never even thought about before. Plus, you followed me here, didn't you? So don't play hard to get, like this is some fucking huge imposition on you. Don't bullshit me, Hunter!"

Her voice had risen by the end. Not to a shout. That wasn't her. Her anger was always... not controlled, because she was anything but. Fierce, maybe. Focused. A hissing panther, rather than a roaring lion.

"Yeah, I want you," I said, spreading my hands. "We've only been together for a week, and I'm already falling for you. I won't deny it. I dunno if it'll work out long-term, and I honestly don't care. The future can take care of itself. But I like you a lot. You're fun, and your attitude... it's great. It turns me on in so many ways. I want more, too, and I'll never deny it." I reached up to tap at my mask again. "This stays on, though. That hasn't changed. Maybe it will, but the future can take care of that too. If you can't be with me as Hunter, well fuck you I guess, and not in the fun way."

"Not a very romantic declaration," she said, but she was still smiling.

I returned the smile. "I'm not a romantic of any kind," I told her. "You want to make out? To fight? You wanna get bloody and hot and wet and whatever else? Fuck, I'm all about that. You want sappy words and poetry, find someone else, because that ain't me."

She growled at me, reached up and snatched her mask off, then sprung up from her chair, stalking toward me. She pushed me backward, and I let her, then she lowered herself down onto me, pressing again my armor, the jagged plates digging into her chest, her stomach, her legs.

Her face was right in front of me, no mask. Up close her eyes were brown, lighter than I'd thought, not quite gold. Her lips were full, drawn back from her teeth. She had high cheekbones, angular, no fat on her anywhere.

"God, you're pretty," I said.

She leaned down, pushed her lips against mine, hard, then drew back. "Call me beautiful," she demanded.

"God, you're beautiful," I said.

She pressed herself against me again, the kiss going on longer. She drew back, leaned in again, and I opened my mouth, but she didn't kiss me. She bit my lip, hard. "Call me scary," she growled.

"God, you're scary," I said. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and so was hers.

"You-" she bit again. "Are-" she bit a third time, my throat, hard enough to draw blood. "Mine!" she growled, low enough that I could feel it all down my body. "And that's never going to change. So get used to it."

I opened my mouth, but she pressed a hand against it for a moment, staring into my eyes. Then she rolled off me, standing up in one lithe motion. She swallowed, catching her breath. I followed her every movement, eyes tracing over her. Her long legs, her hips, her chest, her hair.

"Now go get clean," she said. "We're gonna have dinner with my mom."

"God, you're evil," I groaned, letting my head fall back onto her bed.

"You better fucking believe it," she said, a grin spreading over her face. "Now get ready. If you're good, maybe we can continue this... conversation, later."

"Yes ma'am," I said, springing to my feet. "Which way's the bathroom?"


	14. Cunning Raiders

**Chapter Fourteen: Cunning Raiders**

"I have to say, sometimes it's nice to just hang out and enjoy the silence."

For a minute, the only sound was the creaking of huge wheels over grass. Then Shadow Stalker looked up at me.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Shame you fucked it up."

I shrugged, then leaned back against the bench and snugged my arm a bit tighter around her shoulder. She didn't protest, going with the motion, pressing a bit closer to me despite the spikes on my armor.

"Fine," she said, dropping her head to rest against my pauldron. "You're forgiven. You do know we're going to be in deep shit once we get back though, right?"

"Maybe," I said. "Should we ditch, you think? Flee the law? Cheese it? Go to ground? Go out in a blaze of glory, maybe?"

She made an amused sound. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You and me against the world?"

"I can think of worse ways to go out, yeah."

"Call it a backup plan, then," she said.

Our conversation lapsed for a minute. It had been like that since we'd left her mom's house. Short bursts of casual chatting and joking, followed by quiet, just the two of us together. It was a new experience for me, and a nice one. Not something I would have expected.

Soon enough, though, it would be over. The cart we rode wasn't taking the same route as it had on any of the previous trips – out of necessity – but I was pretty sure we were nearing the Philadelphia station. After that it would just be a few minutes on the subway before we were back at Protectorate HQ.

"Something on your mind?" Shadow Stalker asked, and I realized I'd started tapping my heel on the wooden boards of the cart's floor. I stopped.

"Not really," I said. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Probably," she said. "Go ahead."

"Just something you said yesterday, it got me thinking. Have you fought an elder dragon before?"

I felt her shoulders tense for a second, then slowly relax.

"Was hoping you were gonna ask about my family," she said. "Or maybe Emma and Taylor. Most people have at least a few questions about a one-armed girl who's friends with a cape."

"I think I got a good read on them yesterday," I told her.

She sighed. "Yeah, you probably did, I guess," she said. "So, you know I said I'm not from Boston, originally?"

"Brockton Bay, right?" I asked. She lifted her head up to me, and I shrugged. "Came up when you first saw Rune, a few weeks ago."

"Oh right," she said. "Forgot about that. Yeah, I'm from Brockton Bay. I was there in oh-nine, and yeah, I fought the elder dragon."

"Anything you can talk about?"

She leaned into me slightly and punched me, right in the center of the chest. "A good boyfriend wouldn't push like that," she said.

"What can I say? I'd rather be an asshole than stay curious."

She punched me again. "Whatever. Guess I owe you something for last night, and it's not like I saw much anyway. I was on search and rescue then, too."

"How did that work? There's not a lot of coverage of the fight, but I saw some pictures. The city was flooded."

"Not flooded," she said. "It... I don't know how to say it. The monster... I don't even know. The city sank. Parts of it slid into the ocean, but most just went... down."

I hugged her tighter.

"It occurs to me that I'm being more of an asshole than I thought," I said.

She pushed me away, ducking out of my one-armed hug.

"If I say I'm alright to talk about something, I'm alright to talk about something," she snapped. "Ask your fucking questions."

I blinked. "Okaaay" I said, drawing out the word. "You didn't actually say that, but whatever. Did you actually see it? The Caedeus?"

She looked away. "Yeah," she said. "Just once, and just for a second. It was out in the bay the entire time. Never came to land. Couldn't, I don't think. No legs. Just fins, or flippers. At first, you know, nobody knew what was happening. Everything started shaking. My mom thought it was an earthquake. Stupid. We don't get earthquakes here. It was... I don't know, maybe twenty minutes before the alarms started sounding. I-"

She stopped, took a quick breath. One hand absently fiddled with her crossbows.

"I went to the rendezvous point, and they sent me to do search and rescue. Pretty much the same thing as the Lao-Shan, but with water instead of dust. Then, when everything started sinking, they pulled me out. I was at a camp for a few days before I found my mom, and then they set us up in Boston."

I opened my mouth to say something sympathetic, then closed it again. It obviously wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Do you know where it came from?" I asked. "Where the portal led?"

"Sort of," she said. "The portal was kind of the problem, I guess. That's what they said, anyway." She turned to look at me. "Did you see the one the Lao-Shan Lung came through? Big rip in the air, all white?"

I nodded.

"That's the difference between elder dragons and other monsters," she said. "They don't need the portal to be big enough to fit through. They can break it themselves, smash through. That's why there's stations on both sides, not just ours. To protect the portals, prevent elder dragons from tearing them wide open."

"I never heard that," I said. I didn't even try to hide my enthusiasm.

"Yeah, not really common knowledge. I guess the Protectorate thinks it'll scare people. I said I joined the Junior Protectorate for a bit in Boston, yeah?"

"You did," I confirmed.

"Well, I heard it there. They think the portal the Caedeus came through was a mature one, which I guess doesn't happen much. It opened way underwater, where nobody noticed, and the monsters that came out were mostly aquatic ones that stayed away from shore. So it had time to grow, and when the Caedeus came through there wasn't any warning. No huge white rip in the air, or the water I guess. Just the biggest elder dragon ever encountered, tearing apart the city's foundations."

"Fighting underwater..." I mused. "That can't have been easy."

"I wouldn't know," she said. "They didn't kill it, though, I know that much. It's still there, on the other side of the portal. Unless it left or something."

"Wait," I said. "Wait. It's still alive? It kills an entire city, and they just leave it?"

"Sure," she said. "Not like it can go inland or anything."

"That's-"

"Smart," she snapped. "It's smart, Hunter. If it's not gonna do anything, it's way smarter to leave it alone."

"Right," I said, though I didn't remotely believe it. "Sure."

Conversation lapsed again, less comfortably this time, and eventually we pulled into the Philadelphia station. It was almost a shame. It was the second time I'd made the trip with just Shadow Stalker, and I would have enjoyed more time together. Maybe another distraction like we'd had last time. A monster to hunt.

There wasn't anyone waiting for us inside the station, which was a relief, since I'd half expected an angry welcoming committee. The trip on the subway was equally quick and without issue.

We emerged into the lobby of the Protectorate HQ much as we had weeks ago, though it was earlier in the day. There weren't any hunting teams waiting around, sitting on the couches or at the tables, though there were a handful of businesspeople. Nobody paid us special attention. The receptionists didn't call us over or even look up as we walked past the front desk.

I knew we'd be in trouble on some level, of course. I knew that it worried Shadow Stalker, at least a little bit, though she'd obviously deny it if I brought it up in that light. I glanced at her, striding along beside me. Her steps were long, landing toe-first, with little pressure ever placed on her heels. Silent. It looked elegant, controlled, almost as if she was wearing high-heels instead of flat-soled boots that laced halfway up her calves.

 _Yeah,_ I thought. _She'd call it being careful._

It was probably smart. But it wasn't what I felt. The closer we got to the possible conflict, the faster my heart beat, and the more I wanted to smile.

So when the elevator door opened on the barracks level to reveal Rifle standing with his arms crossed, face set in a frown, I couldn't hold back my grin.

"Hey, it's been ages!" I said, holding my arms wide. "You don't call, you don't write. I almost thought you'd forgotten us."

"I dealt with the Protectorate," he said, turning away and beckoning to us. "Come on."

"What, no hug?" I asked, falling in behind him. "I thought we were friends."

"Doofus," Shadow Stalker said. "At least _try_ to take this seriously."

"I can try to pretend to take it seriously," I said. "Can't promise anything beyond that."

She punched my shoulder, but it didn't have the normal sharpness or impact. An absent gesture, without her attention behind it.

The smile fell off my face. Why that took the fun out of things for me, I didn't know. But it did.

Rifle led us down the hall, in a different direction from my room or Shadow Stalker's. The door we ended up at was the same kind, though, just with his name on it.

"I didn't know you were staying here too," I told him. "Figured that with all your ill-gotten loot you could afford somewhere better."

"I could," he said. "I can. I've got my reasons for staying here. Inside."

I shrugged, walking past him and looking around.

It was like my room, and Shadow Stalker's. Nothing different, except for maybe the neatness. Not that it was pristine. There was an open pizza box on the counter in the kitchen, and a few dirty plates piled on the coffee table in front of the TV. But that was all. There wasn't any cape stuff around, either. No racks of guns, or cases of ammo, or arcane thieving gadgets, or whatever.

"Hey," Rune said, and I blinked. I'd almost missed her. Her robe was the same color as the couch.

"Hey," I said, raising a hand in greeting. "Didn't see you."

She stared at me. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that," she said. "It's the first time we've seen each other since an elder dragon attack. Couldn't you at least ask how I'm doing?"

"I knew you were fine," I said. "I asked at the hospital."

"You didn't tell me that," Shadow Stalker said, entering the suite behind me.

"Didn't think you'd care," I told her.

She just grunted, then walked past me and collapsed onto a couch, away from Rune.

"Take a seat, Hunter," Rifle said, coming in behind us and closing the door.

I shrugged, walking over to sit beside Shadow Stalker. For the moment, I didn't feel like arguing.

Rifle stood in the middle of the floor, looking around, meeting all of our eyes for a moment. "I dealt with the Protectorate," he said again. "Rune already knows about this, but they weren't happy when you left the hospital without checking out. They weren't that happy that we didn't kill the daimyo hermitaur, either."

"Expected that," I said. "No surprise."

He nodded. "I won't try to pressure you with their displeasure," he said. "I'm very well aware that it won't work. I won't pretend it doesn't piss me off, but getting mad isn't going to help anything. What we need-" He paused, narrowed his eyes at me. "No, 'we' doesn't work on you either, does it? Counterproductive, if anything."

"Pretty much, yeah," I said. "I'm not into that group-think stuff. I'm more interested in what _you_ want. You, singular."

"That's horseshit," Rune said, sitting forward and glaring at me. "Everyone knows that a group is stronger than any one person. Stand united, or fall divided. It's been true for thousands of years, before powers were ever a thing. I mean, fuck, you saw, right? Even the Triumvirate fights in a group!"

"It's not about strength," Shadow Stalker said. "It's about desire."

"Oh yeah, and you two would know all about that, wouldn't you," Rune spat. "Did you ditch search and rescue to go fuck in a corner, too? At least I fought!"

"Oh, you Nazi bitch!" Shadow Stalker spat back, tensing up, leaning forward and planting her feet. Rune just sneered at her. They held the tableau for a few seconds, eyes locked on each other. "No, fuck you. You're not worth it," Shadow Stalker said eventually, leaning back, but not relaxing.

"Shadow Stalker's right," Rifle said, and Rune looked to him, mouth falling open in surprise. "About desire. Not the way I would have phrased it, but she's right."

"You serious?" Rune asked. "Like, really?"

"I am," Rifle said, looking around at us again. I could almost admire the way he did it. He was the only one still standing, in his own suite – his own place – and he'd broken in with an unexpected remark just as the fight was getting started. Making himself the center of attention, getting people to pay attention to him, be open to what he said. I'd seen it done better, though. In his case I would have bet that it was a faithful imitation of someone else's style, rather than his own thing.

"Well, I'm not gonna complain about someone agreeing with me," Shadow Stalker said. "Kinda surprised you see it that way, though."

"Why?" Rifle said. "It makes sense. Everyone wants things, and everyone acts to get them. People don't fight just to be strong. They fight to get those things they want, or to avoid the things they don't want. Back in the middle ages, you didn't raise an army by just giving people a chance to fight. You either paid them, threatened them, or promised them something they couldn't get without joining up. It's the same now. It's the same for us."

"Well, I mean, yeah," Rune said, floundering slightly. She gestured around the room. "But people don't just do things because they want rewards, or because they're scared or whatever. There's bigger concepts. Things to unite people. Honor, family, all that stuff."

"Did Kaiser feed you that line?" Shadow Stalker sneered.

"So what if he did?" Rune countered, raising her chin and staring Shadow Stalker down. "It's how the Empire stayed so strong. How we fought off everyone else. Because we honored our brothers and sisters. We fought for them, and they fought for us."

"And yet, here you are," she said, crossing her arms and lounging back into the cushions, one leg raising to fold over the other, insolent. "With us, not them."

"You know-" Rune hissed, but Rifle cleared his throat, and she stopped, looking up at him.

"You've both got strong points," he said. "But I'll point out, Rune, that Shadow Stalker saved your life, fighting the daimyo hermitaur. Twice. Hunter saved it once as well, fighting the yian garuga. Another time if you count the potion he made."

"I'd call that one a wash," she said, looking at the carpet, her cheeks coloring. "Besides," she added, looking back up at him. "I saved you all too, at least a few times. That's my point. We're stronger together."

"And it's a good point," he said. "You're not wrong. But do you think Shadow Stalker saved you out of any kind of honor, or sisterly affection?"

Shadow Stalker scoffed, tossing her head. "Fuck no," she said.

"Yeah, no chance," Rune sneered back.

"And _that's_ my point," he said, his voice more intent. He paced a few steps to the wall, then back. "We can fight together. We know that. We even make a good team, and I think we'll get even better as time goes on. But we want very, very different things. I thought that didn't matter, that we could all do our own things, but that we were all on the same page about working with the Protectorate. But I was wrong. That's on me. If I'm the leader here, then there's nobody else to blame. The buck stops with me. So I'm not going to chew anybody out, or try to guilt anyone into anything. I know that won't work, and I'm not stupid enough to smash my head against that particular wall."

"So why are we here?" I asked.

"We've never talked as a team," he said, more or less ignoring me. "We never got to know each other. We don't know what any of the rest of us want out of this whole thing. That means that we don't know where the pitfalls are, or where we're going to rub up against each others' rough spots. That could have cost us a lot. We're lucky it didn't. So I'm marking this thing with the elder dragon as a wake-up call. A sign that we need to change the way we've been doing things. Does anyone disagree?"

Rune shook her head. Shadow Stalker just lounged there, legs crossed, one foot bouncing up and down in midair.

Rifle looked at me. "Hunter? You're the individualist here. Do you want to argue with anything I've said?"

"Nah," I said. "Not unless you want to turn this into something where we beat on drums and share out feelings."

"Do you really think that's what I'm suggesting?" he asked.

"Nah," I said.

"Don't say it, then."

I gave him a mock salute.

"Alright," he said. "I'm not suggesting we unmask. I'm not suggesting we share stories of our past. Hunter's right in that much at least. It's not necessary. It wouldn't hurt, but it's also too high a mark to shoot for right now. What I _am_ suggesting is that we open up about what we actually want. Why we're here, rather than where we were before. More, why we're _staying_ here. Any of us could go join a villain team, or even go solo. The Protectorate wouldn't like it, but as long as we played by the rules they'd at least accept it." He paused to look around at us again, meeting our eyes more intently this time. "So that's it. That's what I want us to do. Any objections?"

Nobody spoke.

"Good," he said, nodding sharply. "I'll go first. Put my money where my mouth is. You all know I was a thief. You know I got caught, and this is my plea deal. My way to stay out of prison. But if that was all I wanted, I could have broken out, or had someone spring me. I've got the money for it. Enough money to live comfortably for a long time. The rest of my life, even. I'm not bragging about that, by the way. Just laying out the facts. The reason I'm here on this team, rather than doing that? It's pretty simple. I want to be able to walk the streets and be free. I want to be able to buy a house in a dozen different cities, fly a private jet between them, and have a supermodel waiting at every door."

"My respect for you just shot up," I said. "A lot."

He grinned, but it was lopsided. "I'm not sure I'm happy to hear that," he said. "My point is, I want to be able to do what I want, without being tied down or forced to run every time the police get close. I don't want to flee to South America or Africa. I don't want to look over my shoulder every time I go out to buy smokes. I want to be able to flip off any cop that passes me by."

"That... I wouldn't have guessed that," Rune said. Her disappointment was obvious. "I always thought you were... I don't know. Different. I guess I was wrong."

"I'm still me," he said. "I still want to do the jobs clean. I want to prepare, and do the research, and be professional, and work together. Hell, I'd even want to go out and get a beer afterward, with you at least." He glanced toward the couch where Shadow Stalker and I were sitting. "Maybe not those two."

"Oh," Rune said, quietly. "Alright."

"If possible, I'd rather this team be a family," he said. "But if I can't have that, I'll have the other. That's all." He looked around. "Who's next?"

"Not me," Rune said. "Sorry."

"Not me, either," Shadow Stalker replied. She poked the side of my head. "Guess that means you're up, oh beau of mine."

"Damn," I said. "I don't suppose you'd all believe I just want a good fight and a good... meal?"

"Nope," Shadow Stalker said.

"Not really," Rifle added.

I huffed out a quick breath. "You said we wouldn't be getting into our pasts," I said, looking to Rifle. "I figure I can guess some of yours, now. You'll probably be able to do the same for me after this."

"If I do, I won't bring it up," Rifle said. "I'll promise you that much if you'll grant me the same courtesy."

"Mutually assured destruction," I said. "I can dig it."

"I'd prefer to look at it as building trust," he said. "But whatever works for you, works for me."

"'Kay," I said. "Gimme a minute to slot this together in my head."

He nodded. I frowned down at the carpet, holding my chin between my thumb and forefinger. What I wanted to say – or what I was willing to say, at least – wasn't very complicated. In a lot of ways it was even more simple that what Rifle claimed as his motivation. Probably about as true, too. Which was to say, not a lie, but lacking a lot of critical details. Making sure those details didn't slip out, that was what required the careful phrasing. For Rifle, I was pretty sure that was where the mansions and supermodels had come in. For me... It was a bit more complicated.

A few minutes passed, and nobody spoke up or interrupted me.

"Okay," I said eventually, looking back up. "You all know I'm not a very deep person, right?"

Shadow Stalker snickered, and Rifle smiled for a moment. "You could say that," he said.

"Yeah, so." I paused, crossing my arms and looking at the ceiling. "At the end of the day, I really do want good fights and good-" I glanced at Shadow Stalker "-meals. Believe it or don't, I don't particularly care. Where it gets a bit wrinkly is the how, and the why. I'll leave the why aside, but the how... Well, I'll just say it. I want to be at the top. I want to be the guy they call to take down the big bads. I don't want to have to care about the little things like rules or paperwork. I don't want to have to back down, or come home in defeat. I don't want to lose. Ever."

I glanced around like Rifle had, meeting everyone's eyes for a second. Rifle's eyes narrowed, Rune's widened, and Shadow Stalker's mask remained blank.

"I want to win," I said. "I want to _conquer_. I want to lay fucking low any wyvern or dragon that stands in front of me, and I want everyone that sees my mask to either tremble in fear or get turned the fuck on. That's the truth."

"Hear hear," Shadow Stalker said, clapping her hands together lazily.

"I hate to say it, but it might not be that easy," Rifle said. There was something in his voice, though I couldn't quite pin down what.

I shrugged. "I'm not about easy. You might have noticed."

"Except in some ways," Shadow Stalker said, elbowing me.

"Oh hey! You can do it too!" I said, grinning at her. "I'm proud of you, Stalky."

"I _will_ kill you if you call me that again," she said. "Not even joking. I will murder you."

"My point!" Rifle said, getting our attention again. "Is that I don't think the Protectorate intends to let us get that far."

"Explain," I said.

"I told you I dealt with them," he said. "Cleared up your leaving the hospital, and our failed mission. The problem is, it was easy."

"Ah," I said.

"'Ah' indeed," he replied. "I thought it might be true before, but I'm certain now. Whether it's the whole organization or just some part of it, they don't intend to promote us out of the junior league. They want us as disposable assets."

"It's a hurdle, for sure," I said. "But we've still got opportunities. I mean, if they really wanted us gone, they'd have let me go fight the Lao-Shan."

"Good that you realize it would have killed you," he said. "But I'm not sure it's that easy. For a while I thought that Chevalier was in on it, pushing the nasty missions on us, but now I think it's the other way around. I think he was the one, or one of the ones, pushing for us to advance. To let us prove ourselves in an incontrovertible manner. But we blew that with the daimyo hermitaur, and you two made it worse with your stunt. It's why they let us off so easy. I'm nearly sure of it."

"Huh," I said. "Shit."

"Shit indeed," he said. "Maybe we'll get other chances. But maybe they'll use those excuses to feed us a steady diet of one or two star missions, then throw us against the next troublesome wyvern to pop up, to weaken it for the real heroes."

"Um," Rune said. "Isn't that a bit paranoid? I mean, yeah, I can sort of see it. But you sound pretty fucking sure about this, Rifle."

"I could be wrong," he said with a shrug. "It would be nice if I am. But there's too many things coming together for me to believe it. And I'll freely admit that I could be thinking too negatively about how they intend to use us. They might be happy to have us fighting yian kut-kus and congalalas for the rest of our lives, collecting samples and making them money. That's possible. But I'd rather plan for the worst and be pleasantly surprised."

"Doesn't really matter," I said. "Whether that's their plan or not, I'll figure something out. If nothing else, we can track down our own elder dragon and haul its head back to HQ. They couldn't say shit then."

"We can call that plan 'B'," Rifle said. "Or preferably 'C', or even 'H'."

"I could stand for it to be plan 'A'," Shadow Stalker said, sitting up. "My turn to share, I guess. You all know where I'm from, yeah? You know what that means? I wouldn't even ask, but a certain doofus had to have it spelled out earlier."

"It's me," I said. "I'm the doofus."

"I get your point," Rifle told Shadow Stalker.

"Well, my goal, it works with both of yours. If I'm free, working for the good guys, I get more latitude, and more support. If we're top of the heap, we can set our own goals, and people will just have to deal. With both, we get more money. I'll need all of that, I think."

"Because?" Rifle asked.

Rune leaned forward. "You want it dead," she said, her voice nearly accusing.

Shadow Stalker nodded.

"Bitch," Rune said, her voice more bitter than angry. "You're stealing my bit."

"You too, huh?" Shadow Stalker said. "I wouldn't have thought."

"Yeah, why not?" Rune countered. "It was my home too."

"Alright, I think we all get the point," Rifle said. "But say it out loud. For Hunter's benefit, if nothing else."

"Douche," I said. I reached out to take Shadow Stalker's hand, and she let me. I gave it a squeeze, and she squeezed back. "I think I kind of got it before, when we were talking on the cart. But yeah, say it. Get it out there."

She took a breath, then let it out. Not a deep one. I doubt anyone but me noticed.

"The Caedeus killed my city," she said. "My home. I want it dead. I want it to die, and I want to be the one to do it."

"Hear hear," I said, grinning at her. "Now that, no joke, is something I can get behind."

"You know it's probably not possible," Rifle said.

"I know," Rune answered, instead of Shadow Stalker. "She does too. She was there, like me. But... I don't think it matters. Impossible or not, it's what we want. For that, I'll even work with a psycho murderer."

"And I'll work with a Nazi bitch," Shadow Stalker said.

"Great," I said, my smile returning with vigor for the first time since I'd entered the room. "One big, happy, elder-dragon-murdering family."

"God help us," Rifle said. "But you know what? Fine. I can work with that."


	15. Find the Mountain Herbs!

**Chapter Fifteen: Find the Mountain Herbs!**

"I can't believe we're doing this again!"

I turned my head to see Shadow Stalker viciously kicking at a knee-high bush, scattering leaves and sending bundles of nut-like things rolling down the low hill we both occupied. She kept at it for a minute, until the stem broke and she transitioned to stomping the bush into the dirt.

When she finished, she rounded on me, cloak flaring, and planted her fists on her hips.

"What?!" she demanded, leaning down toward me.

I ignored her for a moment, brushing aside some foliage and picking a few bugs up off the ground. I pocketed them – ignoring their squirming – then turned to her.

"I was just thinking, you've got great legs when you're angry."

She scoffed, straightening back up. "I've always got great legs," she said.

"You're always angry," I pointed out.

She stepped forward and put a finger under my chin, lifting my head up to meet her gaze. Or her mask, anyway.

"It's rude to stare at a girl's legs when you're talking to her," she said. Her voice was threatening, but something other than angry.

"Would you prefer I stare at something else?" I asked. I figured it was safer than saying it was her fault for wearing the skin-tight costume. After all, it wasn't like I wanted her to stop.

"I'd prefer if you focused on the job," she said, using her finger to lift my head up even higher.

"What do I get if I do?" I asked her.

"Money, retard," she growled.

"I'm getting the sense that you're in a bad mood," I told her.

"Our job," she snarled, "is to pick _flowers_. What do you _think_ my mood should be?"

"Herbs," I said. "Not technically flowers."

She held her position for a moment, her finger on my chin, then let her arm drop and took a step back. She looked away, kicking at a clump of dirt.

"I don't want to play this game," she said. "Not right now."

That took the smile off my face.

"Shit," I said. "You worried about what Rifle said?"

"I'm not worried," she snapped, wheeling on me again, jabbing her finger against my chest. "I'm... concerned that he might have been right. I do _not_ want to spend the rest of my life doing... this."

She gestured around us, toward the lake in one direction and the high mountain that rose in the other, the top wreathed in snow and fog.

"You've said that before, I think," I said. "Don't worry. I'll figure something out, or Rifle will."

"Yeah?" she asked. "When?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. I'll burn that bridge when I come to it. Besides, this might just be because of the elder dragon thing. Aftermath or whatever. I figure a lot of teams are out of commission. Got to be. Might be we're just here because nobody else is available."

She sighed, sagging slightly. "I dunno, maybe," she said. "Fuck, Hunter. I really don't want to do this. Like, I really don't."

I shrugged again. "It's the job," I said.

"You could sympathize at least a bit," she told me. "You're my fucking boyfriend. That's _your_ job."

"I'm not really the consoling type." I shrugged yet again. "Unless you want to..." I trailed off suggestively.

"God," she said, laughing. "You really do have a one-track mind. You know what? No. Tempting, but I don't want to listen to Rune bitch us out because we ignored the job to make out."

"A shame," I said, shuffling over and kneeling down beside another bush. I picked a few bits off it, examined them, then tossed them away. The soil under it was muddy, near the edge of the lake, but cold enough to be firm. I pulled out my knife and scraped a bit away, revealing more bugs. Two stood out, and I pocketed them too.

"Gross," Shadow Stalker said, leaning down to look over my shoulder. "Why bugs?"

"Dunno," I said. "I just figure they might be useful."

"For tinker stuff?" she asked.

"I mean, probably," I said. "Maybe pranks too. But probably tinker stuff."

"If you're wasting time just so you can prank Rune-"

"Rifle," I corrected her.

"Whatever," she said, rolling her head in exaggerated dismissal. "Focus. Sooner we get the herbs, sooner we can get out of here."

I wiped my knife clean on some leaves, then stood up again and looked around.

"I could stand to stay a bit longer," I said. "It's nice here."

"It's a frozen tundra next to an even more frozen mountain," she said. "It's cold as shit, everything's either mud, rocks, or shitty grass, half of it's covered with snow, but somehow there's _still_ bugs everywhere, and... whatever those are..."

She gestured to a herd of shaggy brown animals with huge, flat tusks or horns. The fur made it hard to tell. They were grazing together a few hundred feet away, and didn't seem bothered by our presence.

"Popos, I think?" I said. "Had some jerky made from them a while back. Not as good as the aptonoth stuff."

"They suck," she stated. "This whole place sucks. I'm cold, Hunter. I want this to be done."

"You could go back," I said. "Nothing's stopping you."

She let out a long breath. "Fuck, ignore me," she said. "I'm just bitching. Just... pissed off. Wish we had something to hunt, rather than this fucking..." She snapped her fingers.

"Drudgery?" I suggested.

She turned to me skeptically. "Aren't you supposed to be an idiot?" she asked. "How do you even know that word?"

I put a hand to my forehead dramatically. "Your words pierce me to the core," I said. "How will I go on?" I frowned for a second, then lowered my hand. "More seriously, though, I just had an idea. Watch my back for a minute?"

She didn't reply, instead making an impatient 'go ahead' gesture. I gave her a mock salute and started kicking at the grass, flattening it down to get some space to work, then pulled out my improved tinkering kit.

Not that it was that great, really. I'd just added some common stuff from a chemistry set to the chisels, glues, and other things I always carried. Some little metal flasks, too, and a sample-taking kit, plus some stuff to preserve anything I found. The pouch I'd been stuffing bugs into was part of that.

I pulled one of the bugs out – a big blue one – as well as a little camp stove and a few samples I'd taken in the desert. What I was thinking of wasn't that complex, this time. Not like the healing potion from before. I just heated up some water, dropped a plant from the desert in – something that looked a lot like a hot pepper – then brought it up to a boil. Once it got going, I plucked the legs and head off the bug, carefully picked out a few unnecessary organs with the tip of my knife, then dropped it in as well. I let it bubble away for a minute, then strained the mixture into a flask and dropped in a pinch of snow.

"Here," I said, standing up and holding the result out to Shadow Stalker.

She stared at the steaming liquid. "You made me bug tea?" she asked. "Really? Also, it's red. Nothing that went into it was red. I'm not drinking that."

"It'll stop the cold," I told her, jiggling the flask. "C'mon, don't pussy out on me."

"I'll stab you, you know," she said.

"Fine by me," I said. "Just drink this first. You know you're curious."

She snatched the flask out of my hand. "Fine, whatever," she said. "But if this does anything like the last one, I really will stab you. Also, you owe me one."

"Totally reasonable," I said.

She scoffed at me, but didn't protest any further. She raised her mask off her face and took a sip of the drink.

"Gah," she said, screwing her face up. "It's bitter."

"That's the bug," I said. "Helps make the pepper less painful."

"That makes so little sense," she muttered, but she took another sip. She grimaced again, said something too low for me to hear, then raised her head and downed the rest of the drink in one go.

I waited, and she waited, holding the empty flask.

"Well?" I asked after a minute.

"Well what?" she replied, annoyed.

"Did it work?"

"I guess?" she said. "I mean, I don't feel cold, but it was a hot drink. Coffee or tea would have probably done the same thing."

"This will last longer, though," I said.

"How was I supposed to know that?" she snapped. "Asking me how it worked when it's supposed to just last longer-"

She shut her mouth with a click and looked up, intent. I turned, following her gaze to see Rune approaching at a trot, several metal canisters hovering behind her. She moved in an erratic pattern, sticking to the longer grass, avoiding the muddy patches and snow.

"Hey," she said, raising a hand in greeting as she got close. "How are you guys doing?"

"Pretty good," I said, raising a hand to my neck and moving my head from side to side. "Neck's a bit stiff, though."

"Don't be a dick. I mean how many herb samples do you have," she said.

"Four," Shadow Stalker said, simply.

"Two," I added.

"We got eight," Rune said. "So fourteen, total. Just need six more."

"How the hell do you only have two?" Shadow Stalker asked me, ignoring Rune's comment. "You've got enhanced senses and shit."

"I'm not really trying that hard," I admitted.

"Oh my god," she muttered. "Fucking of course." She turned to Rune. "Tell Rifle to stay put. I'll get the rest."

Rune frowned. "You sure?" she asked. "We're supposed to stay close."

"Yeah I'm sure," she said. "Actually, you know what? Fuck it, you can all just head back. I'll catch up."

"Works for me," I said. "Tell me if the hot drink works, alright?"

"Not now, Hunter," she said. "Just... not now."

"Alright," I said. "See you in a bit, then."

She didn't answer. She just went shadow and left, gliding off, wispy, before being lost in the scenery.

"You really are a dick, you know?" Rune said once Shadow Stalker was gone.

"You're only figuring this out now?" I asked, digging my two herbs out of a pouch and tossing them to her.

She caught them, and one of the canisters floated down to her. She grabbed it, flipped it open, popped the herbs in, then sealed it shut again. It made a little hiss as it did, and a tiny hint of mist wafted away from the lid.

"Why?" she asked, when she was done.

"Why what?"

"Why be such a dick?" she clarified. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I have no idea what you see in that psycho bitch, but aren't you two dating? Don't you like her?"

"I like her a lot," I said. "She's great."

"Then why be such a dick to her!?" she asked, throwing her arms up in obvious frustration.

"Why do you care?" I asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, you two don't exactly get along. I figure you'd approve, if anything."

"What? Why?" she asked, staring up at me, her brows knit together.

"Well, I mean, the whole Nazi thing, right?" I asked.

"I'm not a Nazi," she spat. "That's not what the Empire was. Not really."

She started walking away, her pace quicker than before, robe swishing through the grass. I jogged a few steps to catch up, then matched her pace.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I said. "I mean, I'm not from Brockton Bay. But wasn't it called the Empire Eighty Eight?"

"Yeah, so what?" she asked.

"Eighty Eight," I said. "Eight eight. 'H' 'H'. Stands for heil Hitler, right?"

"So what?" she repeated.

"I mean..." I said, momentarily lost for words. "You know Hitler was a Nazi, right? This can't be news to you."

"Are you actually stupid?" she asked with a sneer, most of her face hidden by her hood.

"I don't think so," I said. "But if I was, would I know?"

She scoffed, but didn't say anything.

"Not trying to be a dick here, but I have to say it," I said. "If it goose-steps like a duck, and heils Hitler like a duck..." I paused. "I mean, it kinda has to be a Nazi duck."

"You wouldn't get it," she said. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Whatever," I said. "I don't really care anyway."

She glared at me, absently swatting away a fat beetle that flew in front of her. "So, what, were you just trying to change the subject?"

"No, we can talk about me being a dick all you want," I said. "Doesn't bother me."

"Know what? I don't care either. Let's just stop talking," she muttered.

"Someone's in a bad mood," I said. "Still upset that Rifle's not the dreamy hunk you thought he was?"

"Oh fuck you!" she snapped, stopping in place and whirling on me. One of the canisters flew toward my face, but I batted it aside. There wasn't much force behind it.

"Wow, rude," I said.

"Fuck you!" she said again, stabbing a finger toward me. "Rifle's a good guy! He's sure as fuck a better guy than you!"

"Well yeah, probably," I said. "You don't have to get all pissed off, though."

She shut her mouth for a moment, squeezed it shut really, and glared at me. Then she spun around and kept walking.

"I'm not like you," she said, clearly forcing her voice to stay level. "I care about this team. I care about _you_. And yeah, I'm pissed off. I'm pissed off that the people in charge want to use us like fucking... I don't know. Like tools. Like we're disposable. It isn't right."

"Rifle could still be wrong about that," I said.

"Do you think he is?" she asked. "I don't."

"I don't either," I admitted.

"So yeah, there you go," she said. "Fuck. I don't want to do this shit forever." She brushed a bright green bush out of her path with more force than necessary. "I really, really don't."

"Shadow Stalker said the same thing," I told her.

"Yeah, just proves she's not a retard," Rune snapped. "So what?"

"So nothing, I guess," I said. I hitched my thumbs into my belt and looked around us. Light glittered off the snow, and the lake, and reflected off the side of the mountain. "Just thinking out loud."

She looked at me, her brows knitting together. "Are you really okay with this?" she asked.

I didn't answer right away, just kept observing the landscape as we passed through it. The lake wasn't especially big, and the land rose quickly beyond it, more mountains thrusting up out of the tundra, though none of them were anywhere close to as big as the one on our side of the lake. I turned my head to stare up at it. Grey stone slopes, streaked with green lower down and white higher up, leading to a sharp peak. The air was crystal clear, all the way to the top of the sky, and everything looked close enough to touch.

"I grew up in a place like this," I said.

"Oh?" Rune asked, a bit wary.

"Yeah," I said. "Small town in the mountains. Nothing else for miles around."

"I can't tell if you're bullshitting or not," she said.

"Something you learn, in places where there's sometimes nothing to do, is that sometimes it's okay to just do nothing."

"Is that supposed to be some huge insight?" Rune asked. "Because it's really not."

"Nah," I said. "Nothing like that. That's just the preamble. Point is, you and Shadow Stalker, and probably Rifle, are so worried about the future that you're getting pissed off about something that's really not so bad. I mean, so what if we're out here picking flowers? At least we're out here."

"You'd really rather be out here than back home?"

"Sure," I said. "You bring the blanket, I'll bring the picnic basket."

Rune glanced at me for a second, then looked away again. "You're not being serious," she said.

"Well, not entirely, no," I said.

"You're such a bullshitter," she said.

"Mostly," I said. "But not always. Or at least, not entirely."

"It doesn't work like that," she said. "If you're an asshole most of the time, and then try to break out some too-deep-for-you shit like that, it just makes you seem like a tool."

"Damn," I said. "It works sometimes, though."

"Really?" she asked. "On who? Morons?"

"I guess technically it worked on thirteen-year-olds," I said. "So kinda. Maybe."

"If I was a year younger, I think I'd be insulted," she said.

"Good thing you're so mature now, then," I said. "Have you even had your first period?"

"Asshole," she said. She didn't sound angry, though.

The rest of the walk passed in silence, but not an uncomfortable one.

* * *

"Here you go," Rifle said, lifting up the sample containers and setting them on the desk.

"Twenty _montis virentem_?" the assessor asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and examining the metal canisters.

"Yes," Rifle confirmed. "Mature growths only, including at least part of the roots, no blighted leaves, sealed in their native atmosphere no more than thirty minutes after harvest, maintained at near-freezing temperatures."

"As the client ordered," the assessor said, lifting the canisters off his desk one by one and setting them on a little metal trolley. "They'll be examined tomorrow, once they've undergone decontamination, and if everything checks out the payment should be in your accounts no later than three days from now."

"Why decontaminate them, but not us?" I asked.

The assessor frowned at me, an annoyed twist of the mouth.

"Sorry about him," Rifle said, grabbing my arm and spinning me around, pushing me toward the door. "We'll see that our end of the paperwork is done by tonight."

"It's appreciated," the assessor replied, his face smoothing out.

Rifle gave him a quick smile, then left, pushing me ahead of him.

"I was just asking," I said.

"I know," Rifle replied, giving me one last shove.

Shadow Stalker was leaning against the wall outside the office, arms crossed under her chest. She pushed herself off as we emerged, stepping over and inserting herself between Rifle and I. Rifle moved aside to make room.

"We done?" she asked, linking her arm with mine.

He nodded. "We are," he said. "Before you go, one thing. I imagine our next mission won't be for a few days, and I'd like to have another meeting before then. See if we can't think of a solution to our problem."

"Pain in the ass," she said. "But yeah, we probably should."

"Alright, I'll be in touch," Rifle said. "Shadow Stalker." He turned to me. "Hunter."

"Rifle," I said.

He left. Further down the hall, Rune stood from one of the cheap plastic seats and joined him. They turned the corner together.

"Think they hooked up?" Shadow Stalker asked, looking up at me.

"Nah," I said. "Rifle doesn't strike me as the cradle-robbing type."

"Yeah," she said. "You're probably right. I just knew a kid like her, before, in Boston. Had a pretty serious crush on an older guy on the team. Didn't end well."

"Why Shadow Stalker-" I started, my voice rising in a scandalized tone, but she stopped me with a hard elbow to my armpit, where my breastplate didn't cover.

"Zip it, chump," she said. "I know what you were gonna say, and no, I don't give a shit about her. I just don't want this team to blow up before we can get ourselves sorted out. Now come on, we've got some free time and I've got some serious designs upon your body."

I groaned in genuine regret. "Can't," I said. "Prior commitment."

"Wait, really?" she asked. "No bullshit?"

"Not this time," I said. "Tomorrow, maybe? We can go out, catch a movie or something."

"In costume, I assume," she said. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

She let go of my arm and stepped back.

"Later, Stalker," I said.

"Later, Hunter," she replied.

We went our separate ways.

Back in my room, I grabbed my laptop and flipped it open, awkwardly using the trackpad to navigate to the Protectorate's site. I clicked on the 'employee' section, then input my name on the built-in keyboard. It was a hassle, and I had to try my password a few times before I got it right, but eventually I ended up on the missions board.

I'd found it a while ago, after reading through the handbook we'd all been given when we arrived. It was pretty simple and functional – something I was more than a little grateful for – separated by zone or by portal, and it updated automatically as jobs were posted and accepted.

Not that we could accept jobs yet, but at least I could still see things as they went up. I browsed for a while, focusing on jobs for the mountain portal we'd been through earlier in the day. It was about a fifty-fifty split between missions to gather samples and bounties on monsters. Before the Lao-Shan had attacked, most postings hadn't stayed up for more than an hour or two, and there'd never been more than half a dozen at a time. Now there were over thirty, and they continued to add up, with hardly any being accepted.

"This has got to be a good time to be a villain," I mused.

I kept scrolling, using my free hand to flip open a hard-copy of the Protectorate guidebook, turning the pages until I got to the section on monsters. I divided my attention between the book and my laptop, checking them, cross-referencing.

Eventually, at nearly midnight, something popped up that I figured might work.

I grinned and flipped my laptop closed, tossing it onto the coffee table and standing up.

"Alright," I said. "Showtime."

I moved through the barracks, navigating up to the top level, searching for a specific door. I found it easily enough and rang the buzzer.

After about ten seconds, the panel beside the door clicked, and a distorted voice came through. "Who is it?"

"Hunter," I said. "I wonder if you've got some time."

The door slid open, and I looked up, staring at the white and gold armor.

"Of course," Chevalier said. "Come in."


	16. The Taboo of Negligence!

**Chapter Sixteen: The Taboo of Negligence!**

"Fuck-jacking shit-fucker, it's fucking cold up here."

"Yeah, well whose fault is it that we're here?" Shadow Stalker answered me. "It's you, Hunter," she continued, not waiting for me to answer. "This whole stupid thing is your fault."

I turned my head to frown at her. Her costume was different than normal. Not just black on black anymore, her cloak was a dull gray, thicker than normal, and while her bodysuit was still the same – black and skin-tight – she'd added tan boots and mittens overtop.

"Are you complaining?" I asked her.

" _You're_ complaining, dickhead!" she said, swinging a punch at my shoulder. "You were literally just doing it! Like five seconds ago!"

"Yeah, well, it's fucking cold," I told her.

"You promised me a date," she said. "Dinner and a movie. This? This isn't a date. We're in some fucking ice-caves in the middle of a mountain. If I can deal, you sure as shit can. So shut your mouth, suck it up, and maybe I'll decide not to stab you in your sleep tonight."

"I can't help but think your legs are looking extra sexy today," I told her.

A half-muffled snort came from behind her mask. "Fuck, don't make me laugh," she said. "It's too cold for that. My mask's already stuck to my face."

"Hey!" Rifle's voice echoed out from behind us. "Are we good to advance?"

I glanced back. Rune and Rifle were standing together in a little arch of stone, leading back the way we'd come, toward the base of the mountain. The hole was dark and they stood half in shadow, but it brightened rapidly after that, the ice that thickly coated everything reflecting sunlight from some point that was still out of view.

"It's slippery!" I shouted back. "But it seems stable enough!"

Rifle nodded, and the two of them started advancing, much slower than Shadow Stalker and I had. The sloped path wasn't that steep, but one side led to a fissure that I couldn't see the bottom of, and the other was a sheer wall of ice and rock. Snow covered the path, and flakes sparkled in the air, making it hard to tell what footing was safe and what would lead to a potentially fatal fall.

The fissure wasn't that wide, and I figured I could jump it if necessary – There was even another walkable ledge on the other side – so I wasn't very worried. But I was pretty sure that a fall from an airplane wouldn't do me any real harm, and that wasn't a thing most people could say.

"If the map is accurate, the path should curve around up ahead," Rifle said as he slowly sidled up toward us. He made a looping gesture with one finger, indicating the path we were on, and the ledge on the other side for the gap. "There should be a wider spot before the turn-around point, with an exit that leads to the upper slope. That's our first goal."

"Righto," I said. "Should we keep scouting?"

He stopped for a moment, looking around. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was searching for. We'd encountered a trio of smaller monsters on the way up. Giaprey. A lot like the velociprey I'd seen before, but paler, without the blood-red crests. We'd seen them off easily, but I could see why Rifle wouldn't want to get ambushed here, of all places.

"Go," he decided. "We'll be right behind you."

"Roger," I said, giving him a quick salute, then turned to trot off up the path. Shadow Stalker paced me, occasionally turning to shadow and jumping the gap, scouting from the other side.

Ahead of us, the tunnel expanded upward, a huge vertical slice into the side of the mountain. The fissure got wider too, and the ice that coated everything got even thicker, spreading all the way up the walls and onto the ceiling. It gave the gray stone a blue tint, and thick, transparent stalactites hung here and there, a few big enough to fade into the darkness at the bottom of the fissure.

If anything, the scenery felt even more frigid than it probably was. It made the light look cold, all pale blues and whites, even as it sparkled off the ice.

"This place is kind of amazing," I told Shadow Stalker as she jumped back to my side, drifting into visibility a few feet ahead of me.

"Yeah," she said. "I don't usually gush about natural beauty or whatever, and it's still cold as balls. But yeah, it's pretty."

"Not that I'll be sad to be gone, of course," I added.

"No shit," she said, brushing some snow off her shoulder. She turned to me. "Hey..." She hesitated. "You think this is actually gonna work?"

I frowned, thinking back to last night.

* * *

"Sit down," Chevalier said, gesturing to a couch that was a perfect match for the one in my suite, or Shadow Stalker's. I stared at it for a second, unable to parse the feeling I got on seeing it.

I shook it off and sat anyway. If nothing else, Chevalier wasn't the sort of person you said 'no' to without a good reason.

He sat opposite me, on the other side of the coffee table. I did my best to ignore the way his armor clashed with the rest of the suite.

"So, what did you want to talk about, Hunter?" he asked.

"So, just to make sure," I started, "you're one of the people trying to help us, rather than one of the ones trying to fuck us over, yeah?"

He stared at me for a moment, expression invisible behind his helmet's visor.

"I thought of a few better ways to say that," I admitted. "Went with that one anyway."

He shook his head, maybe amused, maybe exasperated.

"I do want to help you," he said. "It would be a bit easier if you were more willing to follow the rules."

His tone wasn't angry or accusing. It was matter-of-fact, if anything.

I shrugged. "I follow the rules," I said. "I just act like a prick while I'm doing it. Sometimes."

"You've been late to multiple meetings," he pointed out. "You don't do your paperwork, and let your teammate handle it for you. You consorted with villains at least once since joining the team, ones you have a prior record with. Also let's not forget that you left the hospital in the followup to an elder dragon event without getting permission or informing anyone. You were subsequently gone for an entire day, and only your teammate's request prevented disciplinary action. He was quite eloquent about it, I have to say."

"Yeah, Rifle's a good talker."

"All that in the span of three weeks," Chevalier said. "I wouldn't say you follow the rules terrible well."

"Okay, let's put that aside," I said, miming moving a box from my right to my left. "You say you want to help us. Are you also willing to admit that some people are trying to fuck us over?"

"No," he said, flatly. "And you shouldn't think it, either. There are certain people, in some places, that aren't happy with the program. People that would like to see you pay your debt to society the traditional way before being offered a spot in the Protectorate, if you got one at all-"

"Me specifically?" I asked.

He was quiet for a moment. "No," he said. "I meant 'you' in the general sense of people in your same position. Though your name has come up once or twice in a negative light. In any case, you have to realize that this entire program is somewhat non-standard. It took some rule bending to get it started in the first place. If you think anyone's trying to screw around with you, it's because they want to apply the letter of the law, which is a very different thing to what I think you're suggesting."

"But they're not trying to _help_ us, at least," I said. "They want to get in our way, rather than making things easier."

"If that's the case, I think you'd be hard pressed to argue that they're entirely wrong to do so," he said.

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe not. Without them around, we'd be hunting bigger monsters, sooner."

"Or you'd be dead," he suggested. "Hunter, I realize where you're coming from here. You're hardly the first parahuman that's chafed at the rules and wanted to do more, right now, rather than waiting. If I'm reading you right, my suggestion to you would be to give things some time. Focus on completing the missions you're given. Trying to stay a bit closer to the straight-and-narrow wouldn't hurt things either, if you can manage it."

"I think you're bullshitting me," I told him. "And trust me when I say I know a thing or fifty about bullshit. I'm a bullshit expert. Certified and licensed in over fifteen states."

"Heh." The laugh was mild, almost involuntary, but I could hear the smile behind it. When he spoke, though, his voice was as level as always, free of emotion. "You think I'm lying to you?"

"Nah," I said, waving a hand in vague dismissal. "Lying's an amateur's method of bullshitting. It's for children and the mentally disabled. A real bullshit artist can spin the truth like a top. Gyroscopically stabilized deception. The art of the politician and the bureaucrat. People who live their lives in the spinny-chair, and become one with the spin."

"Tone it down a notch," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Don't get carried away."

"Sorry," I said, a bit sheepish. "My point is, someone here's trying to push us forward, and someone's trying to hold us back. I want to talk to the pushy person, rather than the pulley one, and I think that's you. Fair?"

"Fair," he said.

* * *

"I think it's got a chance," I told Shadow Stalker. "Up to us to see it through."

"Figures," she said, scraping at some snow with her fluffy winter boot. It was ice underneath, and the movement triggered a minor avalanche, the snow sliding down into the fissure, leaving three or four feet of the path gleaming blue.

"Hang on," I said, stepping over and bending down. I reached into a pouch and pulled out a handful of mixed sand and road salt, tossing it onto the slippery surface. It was probably too cold for the salt to do much, but every little bit helped for something like this.

I stood up, then scuffed my boot over the patch of ice. The grit slid and crunched, and I maintained traction.

"Kay, let's move on," I said.

Shadow Stalker nodded, and we started off again. The path twisted and turned, narrowed and widened, and even the slope changed frequently. The wall beside it wasn't smooth or straight, either, sometimes bulging out or curving inward, occasionally to such an extent that it formed a short overhang. I had to crouch to advance more than once.

Without my enhanced senses, coordination, and reflexes, it would have been a harrowing trip, made even worse by the numbing cold. I turned to Shadow Stalker.

"You really are amazing, you know that?" I said.

"Yeah, duh," she said. "Why specifically? And don't talk about my legs." She paused. "Not too much, anyway."

"Your legs _are_ fabulous," I said. "Silky pillars of curvaceous delight that- Ow."

"Too much," she said, drawing back a tiny chisel-headed knife.

"Did you get that just for stabbing me?" I asked, eying it.

"Maybe I did," she said, spinning it for a moment before making it disappear in a blur.

"Hot," I said. "But no, as glorious and sensual as- Ow."

"Move it along," she said, pulling the knife back again.

"As luscious and- Ow."

"Do you _like_ getting stabbed?" she asked.

"'Lil bit," I said, holding my fingers up, a little bit apart.

"Oh god," she said. "Am I gonna need to buy some whips and chains?"

"Would you?" I asked, straightening up.

"No," she replied, deadpan.

"Drat," I said, slumping down again.

"Maybe a ball gag," she added.

"Oh, you're a tease," I said. She swatted me. "Alright, fine," I relented. "Anyway, I was just thinking how much I'd hate to make this climb without my power, and how little you're using yours. It's impressive, is all."

"It's not a big deal," she said, pointing a thumb down into the fissure. "There's an updraft there. Worst thing that can happen is I need to go shadow and ride it up. Easy."

"Hmm," I said, stopping for a moment and leaning out over the edge, peering downward. "I can't see any light down there at all," I said. "But if there's an updraft, it's gotta come from somewhere. Where d'you think it comes out?"

"Don't know, don't care," she said. "Not our business. Move on."

We did, advancing slowly up the frigid, uneven path. It wasn't that far, maybe half a mile, but it took a long time, with regular stops to test the slope, plant flags, or clear up an especially dangerous section. Sometimes that meant the salt and sand, sometimes chipping away the ice, and sometimes it meant hammering pitons into the rock and stringing ropes between them.

With all of that, it took nearly an hour until the exit came into view. It started as a general brightening of the cave, the ice glittering as veins of light ran through it. The wind picked up soon after, going from a soft, occasional breeze to a steady pressure, blowing more and more snow in from outside.

Soon enough we turned a corner to see a rent in the mountainside, twenty feet high and framed by twisted spikes of ice, leading out into a world of blank whiteness under an icy blue sky.

"Guess this is it," Shadow Stalker said. "I kinda figured it'd be snowing."

"Guess not," I said, crouching down to run my armored fingers through the powdery snow that filled the tunnel's exit. "Probably just the wind, blowing it all in."

"Yeah," she replied, stepping forward carefully. The snow formed a slope, three or four feet high, but rather than sinking in, Shadow Stalker's boots only crunched down an inch or two before finding traction. She moved forward step by step, weight on one foot, stomping the other carefully, looking for weaknesses in the crust.

"Solid?" I asked.

"Seems like," she said. "Dunno why."

"Maybe it never thaws?" I suggested. "Sun melts it a bit, packs it down, and more just falls on top."

"I guess," she said, stopping for a moment. She jumped up, drawing her knees to her chest, then slammed her heels down on the packed snow as hard as she could. It crunched, but she didn't fall through. "Yeah, seems solid," she said.

I nodded, stepping carefully to join her. The snow creaked under my feet, the powdery top layer shifting and sliding, but that was all. I twisted from one side to the other, shimmying my feet, getting a sense of the footing.

"This could be a pain," I said.

"It was your idea," she said, shrugging. "Deal with it."

"Yeah," I said. "Guess it was."

* * *

"Okay, so," I said to Chevalier. "We agree that's fair. With that said, what would happen if we made a delivery, and it was found that part of said delivery was defective? Not what the client asked for."

"Is this what you're here for?" Chevalier asked. "You made a mistake on a mission, and you want my help to minimize the fallout?"

"Well," I said. "Sorta. Let's add that, hypothetically, the mistake was maybe deliberate."

He sighed. "It doesn't work like that. You can't..." He reached up to run a hand down the front of his helmet. The sound was metal-on-metal, barely audible. "Hunter, tell me right now. Did you deliberately sabotage your team's mission?"

"Aren't you interested in my reason?" I asked.

"I cannot possibly think of a reason that would justify what you're suggesting," he said.

I fought back a grin. "Really?" I asked. "I figured you'd be more creative than that."

"Hunter..." he said, his voice taking on a warning note.

"Can we take a step back?" I asked. "Examine what led me down the left-hand path? The particular shape these well-intentioned and very hypothetical paving stones take?"

He held up two fingers. "Two minutes. That's all I'll give you."

"Okay," I said. "So, right. My team wants to advance. Graduate. Someone's putting roadblocks in our way. You, or somebody, pushed for us to get chances, to remove those blocks. The big crab was one. We screwed it up. I made it worse. No regrets, but I still did it. With me?"

"More or less," he said. "I'll still tell you that your impression of events isn't entirely correct, though."

"If I'm wrong, then the rest of my team is wrong with me," I said. "And I wouldn't bet on all of us being idiots."

"Not only idiots get things wrong," he said. "Sometimes all it takes is a twisted perspective."

"Granted," I said. "Anyway, point is, we want another chance. Are we liable to get one?"

"The sort you're thinking of?" he said. "Yes, actually."

"Soon?" I asked, leaning forward.

He paused, then shook his head. "No," he said. "I want to say otherwise... But no. Not soon."

"Okay, see, that's not going to work for us," I continued. I reached into a pouch on my armor and pulled out the Protectorate Guidebook, flourished it, then tossed it onto the coffee table. "I did some reading, and there's only one way to raise your rank. Complete missions, then get picked for an urgent one."

"That's basic knowledge," Chevalier said, tapping the book. "It's in the guidebook."

"Yeah, obviously," I said. "This is just the preamble."

"Hunter," he said. "Your two minutes are almost up."

"Damn," I swore. I'd expected him to make a comment about not pulling out the book so dramatically just to say something so basic. But clearly he wasn't the type. I furrowed my brow, rapidly re-shuffling my plans. "Okay, normally teams can take their own missions. We can't. That didn't matter, because we were on the fast track. We got our urgent missions back-to-back. But we fell off the fast track, and I want back on. So that means we need to do an urgent mission somehow."

"I can't assign you one," he said. "That's not part of being your mentor."

"I know," I said, slightly disappointed. I hadn't known, and I'd half-hoped it had been him picking our jobs. Still, I'd planned things out either way. "But what happens if we just so happen to do an urgent mission anyway?"

"That's not how it works," he said.

"But what if it was?" I asked, leaning further toward him. "You said yourself that rules had to be bent for us to be here in the first place, so the system has some give. What if we did an urgent mission, without being assigned it?"

He sighed again. "I don't like this, Hunter. I can see where you're going, and I will admit that it's theoretically possible, but it's not a good precedent to set. No, I don't think I'll help you with this."

I sat back, my eyes widening slightly, my breathing picking up.

"I'll owe you one," I tried. "I'm a tinker, I can make stuff. Stuff you can use your power on. A new sword, even. Maybe."

"You're trying to offer me a bribe?" he said. "So I'll break the rules for you?"

"Bend, not break!" I said, waving my hands toward him. "Come on, I'm not that stupid!"

"You aren't stupid," he said. "Your file actually says you're quite intelligent. That's not your problem. Your problem is that you're reckless. Thoughtless, quite often. You don't consider consequences."

"I consider them," I broke in. "I just don't let them stop me."

"That's worse, in a way," he said. "Someone can be taught to weigh risks and rewards. It's harder to convince somebody to _want_ to."

"I always thought of it as a strength," I said. "Not being scared of failure. Being willing to try."

"It can be," he said. "But we're getting off track. Let me see if I have things straight. You did a mission earlier today. Gathering botanical samples, if I'm correct?"

"Yeah," I said.

"You deliberately made a mistake," he continued. "You said you'd been reading the guide book, so I assume you know that it's possible to get permission to attempt to correct that. Have the zone reassigned to your team, go back out, and gather the remaining samples. I'll assume you're planning on revealing that information at the correct time, when an important mission above your pay-grade is posted, so you can use the opportunity to complete the mission yourself. How am I doing?"

"Spot on," I said.

"Then I guess you plan to leverage that, with my help, to get back on the 'fast track', as you put it." I gave him a thumbs up. "Hunter, who else knows about this? Is your team in on it?"

"Just me," I assured him. "My idea, so I'll take whatever flak comes with it. It's only fair."

"When were you planning on telling them?" he asked. "After this talk? When you were back out in the field, looking for the remaining samples? When the monster attacked you?"

"Uh, full disclosure, I was tempted to do that last one, because it would have been funny," I said. "But I was actually planning to go tell them right after this."

"That's something at least. Though for the record I would have been happier if this had been a group project from the start," he said, and I frowned. I didn't voice my confusion, though.

He planted his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers together, resting his chin on them. Again, the sound was metal-on-metal, barely audible. "Hunter," he said, "I think you're a person that withdraws into audacity when you're nervous, or feeling pressured. Maybe you do it deliberately, maybe it's just a reflex. I don't think it matters which."

"I've always just seen myself as someone that likes a challenge," I said. "So, you know, sometimes when I don't have one, I make one."

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not. You're... sixteen?" I nodded again. "A hard age to be. I know that from experience. When you're that age, it's natural to see the people around you as stupid, or at least foolish. To see the problems they aren't addressing, at least not successfully, and think that they're incompetent. Or worse, malevolent. Adults especially. They're slow, after all. They take an age to do even the simplest thing, and it can burn to be forced to sit there and watch. It's only reasonable, then, to want to take care of things yourself, because who else is going to do it? How am I doing, here?"

"I want to argue," I said. "But my file says I'm quite intelligent, so I won't."

"Good," he said, with no trace of humor in his voice. "Everything I said? It goes double for a parahuman. We've got powers. We can do things that other people can't. More, powers are unique to each one of us, so we can do things that literally nobody else on Earth can. I said before that people can be wrong because of twisted perspective. Well, that's something we all have, to one extent or another. A power nobody else has gives us a perspective nobody else has, and how can you relate to somebody that sees the world in a fundamentally different way than you do? And if you can't relate to someone, how can you understand why they do what they do? Are you seeing my point, here?"

"I can see a lot of points you could be making," I said. "I guess that's the perspective thing talking."

"Maybe," he said. "It's a trait of intelligent people to be able to see multiple sides of an issue. It's a failing of intelligent people to not be able to choose the _right_ side of an issue. It's a common defense of intelligent people to believe that none of the sides are right. All that is, though, is a lack of experience. I'm going to be blunt with you, Hunter."

"Go for it," I said, bracing myself.

"Your plan is foolish. Urgent missions are urgent because they're dangerous. Going into one unprepared gets people killed. That's not a risk we can take." I started to respond, but he raised a hand, and I stopped dead, my mouth clicking shut. "Things are worse than you believe they are. Not for you. For everyone. Portals are opening at an accelerating rate. We've seen a three-fold increase in the number of elder dragon events over the last five years. New species of monster are showing up every few months, and older ones are changing. They're getting stronger, and smarter. I'd say they're evolving, but I'm told that's not the case. Either way, you are needed. And yes, I'm talking about you personally, now. We need all the heroes we can get. Hell, we need all the villains we can get, if they're willing to fight. I'm not going to let you go and get yourself killed because you're impatient, or because you lack perspective. Am I understood?"

"What I understand," I said, choosing my words carefully, "is that I've got a better bargaining position than I thought. I won't argue that you're more experienced than I am. I bet you could see through any plan I tried to make. But you're missing something important, here."

"Enlighten me," he said.

"I want to be on the fast track," I said. "I really, really want it. If I can't get it here, I'll have it somewhere else. The others are the same. We've got our goals, and we can't afford to take it slow, or to be careful. We're not gonna trudge around picking flowers and mushroom, or collecting aptonoth testicles, or whatever low-rent shit the powers-that-be want to assign us. We want to hunt monsters. We're going to hunt monsters. That's just all there is to it. You can help us, or we can go elsewhere. Trust me when I say that we're gonna be relentless about this. One way or another, we'll get what we want."

"Heh." Again, the laugh was involuntary. "I suppose you're right. I did miss that. Or I forgot it, anyway. You're sure the others feel the same as you do?"

I paused for a second, legitimately thinking it over. Shadow Stalker, Rune, them I was sure of. What they wanted, they wanted enough to willingly work together, which said it all. Rifle... Going by what he'd said, just his words, I wouldn't have been sure. But just going by his words, extrapolating his stated goal and how he could best achieve it, he'd have been golden even if he never did a mission beyond one-star. He already had the money, after all. All he needed was the legitimacy, and just being in the program was enough for that. No need to push so hard for advancement.

Hell, being stalled, or even sidelined totally, should have been a god-given opportunity for him. Everything he wanted, without the risk or the hard work.

No, something else drove him, just the same as it did the rest of us.

"I'm sure," I said.

* * *

Rifle stepped forward, out of the cave. His steps were more sure on the snow than they'd been on the ice of the tunnel. He shaded his eyes with his hands, looking over the broad field of snow that stretched before us. The upper slope of the mountain.

He flicked his eyes down for a moment, then back up, then down again. "This is it," he said, folding up the map and pocketing it. He slung his gun off his shoulder, fingers flickering over it, checking its readiness. "The last known location of the target. From here on, we're tracking."

"We're only going to get one chance at this," Rune said. Her voice was soft, and her hands were stuffed into the opposite sleeves of her extra-thick winter robe, making her look almost monk-like. The sleeve-tube moved slightly, not easy to see. She was wringing her hands, out of sight.

"One chance should be enough," Rifle said, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Thanks for this by the way, Hunter."

"Any time," I said, waving away his thanks.

"Even if you did it in the most reckless, assholish way possible," he continued. "Fuck you, by the way. Thanks, but fuck you."

"Love you too, baby," I said, blowing him a kiss.

His lips quirked up for a second. "It's nice, when you know a teammate well enough to predict what they're going to say," he said. "You're still alright being the vanguard, then?"

"Yep," I said, reaching over my shoulder and grasping the hilt of my new sword. "No worries about firepower this time. I've got it covered."

"I don't know how you can swing that thing," he said. "How much does it even weigh?"

"A hundred and fifteen pounds of awesome," I replied. "So, we good to go?"

"Hell yeah," Shadow Stalker said, pressing herself against my side and reaching her arm around me. I put my free hand around her shoulder in return.

"Guess we've got to be," Rune added.

"Alright," Rifle said. "Let's get to it. Our target is the blangonga."


	17. The Ruler of the Snow

**Chapter Seventeen: The Ruler of the Snow**

"Now that is one ugly monkey."

Nobody answered my quiet comment. We were crouched behind a tall buttress of ice, up against the side of the mountain, trying our best to stay out of sight and out of the wind. Ahead of us, difficult to see against the blowing snow, a single monster wandered slowly around.

"Is that the target?" Shadow Stalker asked. "I can't see it that well."

"It's not," Rifle said. "Too small. I think it's a blango. Beta variant of our target."

"Does that mean we're close, then?" Rune asked. Unlike the rest of us, she wasn't even trying to observe the blango. She was crouched down with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, head down. Her blue robe enveloped her, hiding any hint of skin, with only a drift of blonde hair hanging out, tugged by the wind.

"It's possible," Rifle said.

"We follow it, then?" I asked, squinting to get a closer look.

The blango looked a bit like a mandril. A big, primitive monkey with thick white fur and a red-and-purple face. It moved on all fours, and its legs didn't look like the kind that would allow it to walk upright even if it wanted to. The way the fur formed a mane around its face, it almost looked like a really ugly bald guy, at least until it opened its mouth. Its fangs were predatory, ten times as long as a human's incisors.

It shuffled around a bit, absently digging in the snow. It lowered its head, sniffing, then dug again, coming up with something small and squirming clenched in its clawed fist. It sat down, planting its butt in the hole it had just dug, bouncing a bit. Then it stuffed its prey into its mouth, chomping and chewing.

"It doesn't look like it's planning to move any time soon," Rifle said.

"It's also in the way," Shadow Stalker pointed out. "Can you take it out? There should be a bounty for it even if it's not much."

"There is," I confirmed. "Four hundred bucks." The bounty we'd got on the velocidrome, our first day in Philadelphia, had been part of what gave me the idea for taking on an urgent quest without permission in the first place, and I'd done some research.

"A hundred for each of us," Rifle said, sliding a cartridge out of his gun and slipping another in. He raised the weapon, bracing it against his shoulder. "Worth the cost of a bullet."

The sound of the gun firing was shockingly loud, and it echoed off the slopes around us, bouncing back again and again. The effect on the blango was almost anticlimactic. It jerked slightly and pitched forward, then didn't move.

"Good shot," Shadow Stalker said.

"Eighty four feet, against an unmoving target, from a stabilized position," Rifle said, lowering his shotgun. "Hunter could have made that shot."

"Don't give him too much credit, now," Shadow Stalker said. "He's got a pretty impressive knack for fucking up."

"Hey," I said mildly, but they both ignored me.

"Come on," Rifle said, standing up. "Let's move." He gestured to Shadow Stalker, then swept his hand to the right, toward the far end of the slope. She went, silent and nearly invisible in the snow. He pointed to me, then jabbed a finger toward the dead monster.

I got his point. A quick nod to him and I was up and moving too. Unlike Shadow Stalker, I couldn't move quietly. Snow creaked under my feet, and I put my hand onto the hilt of my sword as I moved. It was too heavy and unwieldy to keep handy, unlike my previous weapon. Even on my back the weight was significant. Just a touch more and I would have had to hunch forward to balance, and even as it was my gait was different.

I reached the blango quickly and circled around it, cautious. It was definitely dead. I couldn't make out the entry wound, but the exit wound was clear as day. A gaping, ragged-edged canyon where its eye and cheek had been. Blood, bone, and brain fanned out across the snow.

The head was too much of a mess to use as proof for the bounty, and too big beside. It was far from a small creature, and even folded forward and sprawled like it was, I figured it probably weighed more than I did.

I settled on a hand, bending down and pulling out my knife, sawing away at its wrist. It took some time, and I had to hack and scrape at the bones of the forearm, but eventually it separated, coming off with a ripping, sucking sound as the last of the muscle and sinew gave way.

I held it up in front of me for a moment. It looked even less like a human hand than I'd expected. It was covered with short white fur down to the knuckles, while the backs of the fingers were bare, leathery purple skin. The claws were short and blunt, but they still looked nothing like fingernails. The thumb was barely opposable, and all the fingers curved inward naturally. I couldn't imagine it had been very dextrous when it was still attached to the monster.

I still frowned as I hung it from my belt, and I couldn't entirely figure out why.

It wasn't that the blango had just been minding its own business and eating a meal when Rifle had killed it. It was a monster. If it had spotted us, smelled us, or heard our conversation, it would have gone after us with everything it had. Tried to kill us if possible, even if it died in the process. That was what monsters did.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I'd figure it out later, and if I didn't, it probably didn't matter much in the first place.

I turned around and signaled Rifle, giving him a thumb's up. He returned the gesture by saluting me with his gun, then pointed off to the side, where Shadow Stalker had gone.

The area we were in, despite being at such a high altitude, was mostly flat. A little plateau a few hundred feet across. If it hadn't been perpetually covered in snow, maybe it would have been a little meadow or something. Or maybe it was just the snow that kept it so level, some quirk of the way the wind deposited it turning jagged rock into a flat landscape. It was possible. The peak of the mountain still loomed far, far above us, so there was plenty of cliffs and valleys to twist the wind into something bizarre. After all, the snow was blowing all around me, but the sky above was still crystal clear and bright blue.

Either way, I didn't have to watch my step too much as I moved off after Shadow Stalker.

"Hey."

"Jeez!" I burst out, spinning toward the voice, my heart in my throat.

"Tense, are we?" Shadow Stalker asked. She was barely visible, her gray cloak enveloping her, blending into the blowing snow. Only her blank, black metal mask stood out, flecks of snow and frost accumulating in the creases that formed its stern features.

"You're too good at that," I said.

"Wind stops up ahead, around that corner," she said, cloak parting as she raised an arm, like a slash of darkness appearing in mid-air. "The ground drops a little, and there's another flat place like this, but bigger."

I followed her pointing finger. I could see where she meant. The side of the mountain sliced out like a curtain wall, then curved away. The edge of the little plateau approached it before curving off out of sight, making for a somewhat narrow passage with a savage drop on one side. The wind was strange there, carrying the blowing snow down the mountainside rather than continuing around the slope.

"Something there?" I asked her. "No reason to come back otherwise."

"Maybe," she said. "You'll see. Just wanted you to know. Watch out for the wind."

Her warning delivered, she disappeared, fading into the snow again, taking on her breaker form.

The wind intensified as I approached the point she'd mentioned, and I started shivering. It was even colder up here than it had been in the icy caves that had led us up the mountain. I could deal with it, of course. I wasn't worried about frostbite, or passing out, or anything like that. My body – and my power – was more than up to the task. But it sapped my energy, made me hungry.

I pushed ahead, raising my hand against wind that suddenly made a sharp turn, getting stronger, almost enough to push me toward the edge. I planted my feet, leaned into it, and bulled through. It didn't last long, and cut out almost completely as I rounded the corner, fast enough that I nearly stumbled with the sudden lack of pressure.

"Okay," I said, looking around. I absently reached into a pouch and drew out two sticks of aptonoth jerky, chewing on them as I surveyed the area.

Shadow Stalker's description had been spot-on, if vague. Another flat expanse of hard-packed snow, though a few feet lower than the previous elevation, bounded by curving cliff-faces on one side and by a sharp, sudden drop on the other. The cliffs and the drop came together further on, opposite me, and I didn't think we'd be able to go that way. However, partway down the line of cliffs I could see another rent in the mountainside, leading somewhere out of sight. Possibly to the same series of caves we'd ascended through.

The little plateau was almost clear of the blowing snow. Somehow the air here was totally still. Isolated.

Rifle stumbled out of the wall of wind a minute later, followed immediately by Rune. Rifle had her wrist held in a vicegrip, and the two of them were caked in hardened snow.

"That-" Rifle said, catching his breath, "-was harrowing."

"I didn't think it was so bad," I said.

"Fuck off," Rune said.

"If Shadow Stalker hadn't warned us about the change in the wind, we might have gone over the side," Rifle said. "So I'd appreciate a lack of jokes for the moment."

"Fair," I said. "So what now?"

"That," Shadow Stalker said, materializing out of nowhere again, pointing toward the middle of the expanse. "Seems relevant."

I followed her pointing finger, but all I could see was a smallish white mass rising just a bit above the snow.

"A carcass," Rifle said. "But of what?"

"Looked like one of those deer," Shadow Stalker said. "A kelbi, or whatever they are. Just more shaggy. It's been dead a while, but I think something was eating it pretty recently."

"Kelbi aren't native to this area," Rifle said, eyes flickering over the landscape, searching. "It's probably an anteka. They're related, but they're more like moose than deer."

"It wasn't that big," Shadow Stalker said. "But I didn't get close enough to see more."

"A juvenile, perhaps," Rifle suggested. He turned to me. "Check it out, Hunter?"

"Sure," I said, stepping forward.

The area was, as Shadow Stalker had said, larger. It was more open, too, something the dead air accentuated. I could still hear the wind whistling down the mountainside, but it was muted now. Distant. It made my crunching footsteps stand out more, seem louder.

As I got near the carcass, details emerged, and I could see why I hadn't fingered it for what it was earlier. The fur wasn't white, but coated in frost, with patches of snow in some places. The eyes were dull, frozen over, and its horns had been broken off, leaving jagged stumps. It did sort of look like a kelbi, though it was much shaggier and the fur had probably been tan rather than green. Its throat was a red-stained mess, and its stomach had been ripped open, but there wasn't any blood on the snow.

Whatever had killed it had probably moved it here to eat. My mind flashed to the fangs the blango had sported, huge things that reminded me of a saber-tooth tiger.

My hand went over my shoulder, to the hilt of my new sword, and I drew it before I could really think what I was doing.

I staggered for a moment, then eyed it. A thick steel hilt, tubular, ridged, and over three feet long. I held it with my hands far apart, at the top and bottom. Necessary, to get enough leverage. The grip connected to the blade in a boxy metal section full of rivets. Not my best work, but I hadn't had a choice, given the blade itself.

The blade... I still wasn't sure of it. It was a huge chunk of chitin, striped in red and white. The claw of the daimyo hermitaur. Or a piece of it, anyway. It was sharp, I knew. Incredibly so. It was strong, too. Strong enough to take the hit of a rocket-propelled grenade without much damage. Strong enough that the best tools the Protectorate had given me hadn't been able to shape it. I'd had to settle on carving out a section and bolting it to the hilt wholesale.

It was rough, of course. Only the bottom two-thirds of the sword was sharp, and there were spikes projecting out from it as well. I wasn't sure how well they'd hold up, and if they snapped I'd lose a lot of punch. I'd also bolted on the blade of my first sword – the one I'd replaced with the velocidrome's crest – to the end, to give that section some bite. I wasn't sure if that would hold up either.

It had done alright in tests. I could wield it, if slowly. No flurry of blows with this thing. It was huge, over seven feet long, and heavy enough that I had to lean back when holding it to counter the weight. But I felt a lot better with it in my hands than I had with my little sword and shield. It felt like I finally had something that could do real damage to a monster.

 _No denying who inspired it either, I suppose._

I wasn't going to dwell on that. If people wanted they could accuse me of trying to be Chevalier: bab edition. That was fine. They could do it all day, every day. Once I had an elder dragon's head hanging on my wall, we'd see what they said then.

I crossed the last few feet to the anteka carcass in a slow walk, all I could manage with my sword held out in front of me. I glanced down, eyes searching. I'd hunted, before I got my power. I'd seen kills made by bears and mountain lions. I'd never seen a frozen one, though. Didn't know how that changed things. From what I could tell this thing could have been dead for a day or a year. Probably not for less than a few hours, though. It took at least that long for something to freeze through, even in this climate.

Probably. I thought so, anyway. It wasn't like I'd ever tested it.

Hell, I didn't even know if it had been killed by the blangonga we were chasing. How could I?

 _Do they even eat anteka?_

I shuffled around it, hoping for some clue that would give me more information. There wasn't anything, though. Or at least nothing I could interpret.

There was only an instant of warning. A momentary rumble under my feet that sent a jolt of remembered fear and pain through my stomach, giving me just enough time to roll to the side before the snow erupted.

 _Fuck!_

My dodge wasn't perfect. My new sword was too unwieldy, and I wasn't used to it. Wasn't balanced. My roll turned into an aerial tumble as chunks of hardened snow burst upward, carrying me with them.

The ground rushed toward me, smashed into my side, and I rolled, barely keeping hold of my weapon.

I stopped face-up, just in time for the sun to be blotted out by wide-open jaws plummeting down at me, big enough to fit around my torso and led by foot-long fangs.

An explosion hammered at the air, slamming the gaping maw away from me, and I scrambled to my feet, grunting as I swung my sword into position.

Ten feet away, the blangonga was standing as well, struggling up onto all fours. There was no question what it was. It was incredibly similar to the blango from earlier, writ huge. A massive white monkey, more than twenty feet from nose to tail. Bigger than any primate that Earth had ever seen. Apart from the size, though, not much was different. The head was a bit more bald, rising into a blunt, purple cone, and the red muzzle had spiky projections on the sides, like a stiff mustache. More spikes, smaller, outlined its broad brow ridge and made its beady yellow eyes look tiny.

It growled, mouth open, head bobbing, but it wasn't looking at me. It was focused on the source of the explosion.

Rifle slammed another rocket down the barrel of his gun, then shouldered it and fired in one motion. The blangonga watched it come for an instant, then hopped aside, letting the rocket speed past. The motion was fluid, graceful, and scarily fast. Not like anything I'd seen a monster do before.

It touched down for a moment, light as a feather, then paced a few steps before erupting into a run, straight at Rifle. I swore, shouldering my sword and running to intercept, but I wasn't anywhere close to fast enough.

The monster didn't barrel into Rifle, body slam him, like the yian kut ku would have. It checked its speed at the last moment, raising a massive clawed hand up and smashing it down at him.

Rifle dove out of the way, landing flat on his stomach, and the blangonga's claws dug into snow rather than flesh. It wasn't done, though. It planted itself and raised its other hand, balled into a foot-wide fist, and slammed it down. Rifle rolled over and over, avoiding that strike, and the next.

It was fast, and it was agile, and it was obviously strong, but the blangonga didn't seem that smart. It growled down at Rifle, then reared up, fists raised. It gave him enough time to clamber to his feet, leaving his gun where he'd dropped it. He was just fast enough, ducking away as the monstrous fists descended, shaking the ground and cracking the snow's crust.

"Rifle!" I shouted, still rushing forward, closing the distance. His head snapped my way, and he burst into a run toward me.

The blangonga growled again, low, then lazily turned toward us. It started loping along, the casual motion rapidly gaining ground on Rifle's flat out sprint. I poured on the speed, swinging my sword down as the monster reached out its clawed hands, grasping for Rifle.

I didn't try to slash, though. I knew how tough monsters could be. Instead I checked my motion, turning my sword to the side and thrusting the flat of the blade forward, bracing myself with all my strength just as Rifle ducked and rolled past me.

The blangonga's hands rammed into my blade, clawed digits closing around it, pushing all its weight down on me. I skidded backward, one hand on the hilt, one pressed to the blade, my arms screaming with the effort as what had to be tons of hairy monster tried to crush me.

I couldn't have held it for long. Seconds at most. I didn't have to, though. A chunk of rock flew in from the side, impacting the blangonga's ribs with enough force that its feet left the ground. It grunted, a huge sound, and landed hard, its legs going out from under it.

The opening was perfect, and I grasped my sword's hilt with both hands again, swinging it up over my head and bringing it down.

The monster caught it one-handed. I strained, pushing with all my might, and the blade bit in, drawing blood from its palm. Our faces were just a foot apart, and it snarled at me, eyes wide, pupils tiny dots. I snarled back and pushed harder, willing my blade to cut deeper, draw more blood.

I barely noticed the sky darken, or the snow that swirled around us, too intent on a contest of strength that I would inevitably lose.

Black streaks came from behind me, crossbow bolts materializing half into the blangonga's head, but it barely noticed, pressing even harder against my sword. The blood dripping down the edge increased from a trickle to a stream, but the monster didn't seem to care.

Rifle made it back to his gun and added his fire to Shadow Stalker's. Puffs of blood came from the monster's arms and shoulders, staining its fur, but it still didn't give in.

My world narrowed down to a point, even as the snow swirled into a blizzard, the sun disappearing behind sudden clouds. All I could see was hate-filled eyes and huge fangs, all I could feel was the burning in my limbs, the sharp ache in my knees and elbows.

"Hunter!"

The voice sent a jolt through me, electric, passing all the way up my body. How the hell was she here? I didn't even process the warning.

The space between me and the monster exploded, a sudden pulse of air strong enough to send me flying and toss the blangonga head-over-heels.

Once again I found myself looking skyward, into a raging storm, as massive wings that shone like polished steel passed over me.

Then they were gone, taking the storm with them.

I landed with a grunt, staring at a suddenly sunny sky, stunned in more ways than my mind could process or sort out.

"Holy shit," I breathed. "An elder dragon."

"Hunter!"

My head snapped up as the voice shouted my name a second time.

"Wings!" I replied.

Wingtip sprinted toward me, bow held at her side, free hand extended to balance the weight.

I struggled to my feet, and she skidded to a stop in front of me.

Her armor was different from last time. No more green and brown leather. It had been replaced with pale blue scales, nearly white, that formed something like a tunic. It stopped at mid-thigh, leaving part of her legs bare, though she wore black metal boots up to the knee. Her head was topped with a white cap and a small set of goggles. Belts and pouches criss-crossed her waist. What really stood out, though, was the arm that wasn't holding her bow. It was heavily armored, like a built-in shield, bands and studs of black metal belted over more of the white scales. Her waist on that side sported a metal pad over the skirt, and that leg had a heavier boot, with metal plating belted to her thigh.

"Don't stare," she snapped. "Fight the monster."

"The what?" I asked. "Oh, right. The blangonga."

"Weirdo," she said, her mouth quirking into a half smile. My heart thumped, once, and I felt a familiar pain squeeze my chest.

"Wackjob," I whispered, and her smile disappeared. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then turned away.

The fight hadn't progressed much while I was down. The blangonga seemed as stunned as the rest of us. The only person who wasn't affected was Shadow Stalker, barely visible as she ghosted around the monster, firing her crossbows in quick one-two motions, then moving away to reload.

It lunged at her, hopping forward and swiping a paw, but she ducked out of the way easily, slashing across its face with a small knife. It didn't even draw blood.

I took a step, then grimaced. My balance was shit.

"Fuck it," I said, swinging my sword onto my back. One of the longer rivets caught on a hook on my armor, as it was meant to, and I took another step.

 _Better_.

With my sword on my back, one hand still on the hilt, I charged forward. Shadow Stalker didn't see me coming, but Wingtip figured out my intent easily. She split off, moving away from me, hands blurring, firing volley after volley at the monster. Few of her arrows bit deep, but they did more than Shadow Stalker's were, and the monster turned on her, hooting in anger and pounding the ground.

It dug its claws into the snow and leapt at her, one arm extended in a flying punch. She hopped aside, planting one foot on the monster's shoulder and jumping away, flipping over in mid-air and unleashing a trio of arrows straight into its face.

The blangonga landed in a roll, tumbling and pawing at its face, clawing the arrows out.

It never saw me coming.

I came at it in a flat-out sprint, heaving my sword off my shoulder at the last instant, bending over, both hands and a shoulder pressed to the hilt, channeling all my momentum into the slash.

The enormous blade cleaved into the massive monkey's flank, biting far, far deeper than anything yet. Fur, skin, and muscle parted under its weight, and the monster howled, hurling itself away, writhing on the ground.

It wasn't done, though. It scrambled upright in seconds, blood flushing into its face, turning the skin a deeper, brighter crimson.

It took a deep breath and _roared._ The sound was immense, as loud as the yian garuga's scream, but filled with enough primal rage to send the snow billowing away from it, scudding across the ground.

I reeled, my ears ringing, and it didn't give me time to recover. It dug its claws into the snow and heaved upward, hurling a massive chunk into the air, straight toward me.

I shook off my shock too late, and the snowball plowed into me, bowling me over even as it crumbled, leaving me prone, aching, and half-buried.

Wingtip came in again before it could follow up, dancing in front of it, peppering it with arrows, diverting it away from me. She stepped and hopped around it, rolling or diving to avoid its assault, always a step ahead.

I clambered upright as fast as I could, digging myself out and hauling my sword up after me. I shook, trying to get the snow out of my armor as I hooked my sword onto my back again. I was cold, even more than before, enough that I couldn't feel my fingers.

Rifle, Rune, and Shadow Stalker offered their support, targeting the blangonga as I ran in again.

This time I was ready for the weight of my sword, and my slash was quicker, though not as powerful, the wound not as deep. It drew blood from the opposite flank as the last time, and the monster hopped away, hooting, still light on its feet despite the flowing blood that darkened the snow in its wake.

Wingtip exploited the movement, bracing herself and sighting down her bow, firing bundles of arrows one after another, each of them hitting with painful accuracy. One pieced a hand, another the throat, and a third hit it in the open mouth, shattering a fang and skittering down its cheek, leaving a ragged line of deeper red.

The monster braced itself in return, hunching itself against her assault and taking a deep breath. It wasn't a roar that came out this time, though, but a rush of mist. It's own breath, somehow frozen. It washed over Wingtip, and she stumbled back, rime coating her and a choked gasp coming from her mouth.

I grit my teeth and closed the distance, sword still out. I spun as I advanced, blade extended, slashing a line across the monster's hip and down its side. The momentum carried me in a full circle, and I ended up facing the monster, my sword resting on the ground behind me. I heaved, bringing it up in a rising cut, taking the blangonga in the stomach and sending it to the ground, rolling onto its back.

The momentum of the swing carried the sword over my head to slam into the snow behind me. I let it, going with the impact and bracing myself again, raising it up on my shoulder, gathering strength.

The monster struggled, but Wingtip didn't let it get its bearings. It planted a hand to flip itself over, and she shot it in the elbow. It fell back, kicking, and she shot it in the knee. Another explosion pounded it, and it arched its back, hooting out its pain.

Then I took one step forward, and hammered my blade down with everything I had, the white and red chitin spikes goring deep, deep into its vitals.

This was it. _This_ was how a fight was supposed to go.

The monster lashed out, huge arm swinging, knotted muscles bunched and straining. Wingtip threw herself backward, rolling quickly and coming up with an arrow already knocked, but she was hasty, and the shot tugged at fur but didn't penetrate. It swung at me. I braced my sword in front of me and took the blow, sliding and staggering backwards.

It gave the beast time to clamber to its feet, one hand clutched to its side, panting, blood dripping from its mouth and from a dozen wounds. It was hurt, but its eyes were still bright with anger, still willing to fight.

It rose up on its hind legs, bringing both fists into the air, then pounded them down. The force was staggering, and the packed snow shook hard enough that Wingtip lost her feet, sprawling. I was still braced behind my sword, but even I felt it, and it took a moment to get my balance back.

The followup move, though, surprised me. Instead of leaping forward, it crouched down – ignoring the barrage the others were laying down – and started to dig.

It was surprisingly quick. A few sweeps of its great arms gouged out a hole big enough for it to stuff itself into, and a few more saw it disappear entirely.

"Fucking again? Wings! Look out! It's gonna come from below!" I shouted, sheathing my sword and getting ready to move.

"Right," she said under her breath, nodding to herself.

It happened fast. The ground shook for an instant, and then the snow off to the side shattered, flying away in jagged chunks as the blangonga came up underneath Rune.

She cried out, tumbling, but it hadn't hit her dead-on, and she seemed more surprised than in pain.

Shots came in from two angles, joined by streaking bolts and Wingtip's arrows. The monster weathered them, hopping after Rune, teeth snapping.

I didn't let it get any further. I was already in motion as it burst up, and I reached it before it got Rune, slamming my sword down on its rump. Its hind legs went out from under it, and it fell right in front of her. It scrabbled forward, jaws snapping, but a chunk of ice rammed into its face, and it reeled.

It was the end. I knew it, Wingtip knew it, and the monster knew it. It struggled to its feet, still fighting, but it didn't have a chance anymore. When it focused on Wingtip, I hammered it. When it focused on me, her arrows hit all its vulnerable points. We traded off, dancing around it. She was fast, and I was slow, but we moved together, confounding it, tearing it down.

It slowed, weakened, and soon enough an arrow found its eye. It staggered, then hopped backward. It hopped again, and fell, then rolled to its feet. It let out a low hoot, the sound more tired and confused than angry, now. Another arrow took it in the chest.

It blinked, pulled it out, and stared at it. It snarled, weakly, and reared up, hands flailing, unsure. Then it slumped down, slowly, as its final strength gave out. It kicked at the ground, once, and its arm shot out, grabbing at nothing.

Then it was done.

"Well, that's another one you fuck-jackers owe us," Someone said, loud and grating.

"Aw fuck," I swore. "When did you get here, Gunner?"

"You really are a dingus," she said, swaggering toward me. Her gun was already folded in half and stowed on her back, and she had her hands on her hips, a cocky grin on her face. "Tell me you at least noticed the dragon."

"Ah," I said. I'd almost forgotten.

She snickered, then cut off as Wingtip walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Right," Gunner said, reluctantly, drawing out the word. "Fine." She made a zipping motion across her mouth. "You owe me, though. Both of you."

"Zip it," Wingtip said, shaking her sister's shoulder lightly. "You promised."

Gunner made the zipping motion again.

"Thanks for the assist," Rifle said, and I blinked. I hadn't noticed his approach. "I have to ask, though. Why are you here?"

"Because yon Hunter's a stalker, is why," Gunner said, reaching out to poke me. I batted her hand away, hard, and glared at her.

"I took a job here," I snapped. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"Suuu-" Gunner started, but Wingtip pressed a hand to her mouth, finally shutting her up.

"We were on a job," Wingtip said, her voice soft, then paused with a frown. "Tracking... something," she added, after a moment.

"The elder dragon?" Rifle asked.

"It was a Kushala Daora," I said. "Steel skin. Controls the weather."

Wingtip nodded. "Don't ask about it, please," she said.

"Far be it from me to make you uncomfortable," Rifle said. "You were a big help. I'm sorry to say, though, that we can't afford to share the credit for this kill. If that's an issue, I can compensate you in private."

"It's fine," Wingtip said. "We don't need money."

Gunner's eyes went wide at that, but Wingtip kept her hand in place, not letting her speak.

"Good," Rifle said, a little dubious, eying Gunner's increasing fidgeting. "The offer will stay open, though."

Wingtip nodded, and for a moment it looked like she might say something else, but she just shook her head.

"Rune's fine," Shadow Stalker said, coming up and sliding under my arm, her own arm going around my shoulder. "Nice work, by the way. That sword's fucking murderous."

Wingtip froze.

"You okay?" Shadow Stalker asked me. "You take another hit to the head?"

In a blur of motion, Wingtip nocked an arrow, then released it, straight at Shadow Stalker. It passed through her chest, dead center, trailing bits of shadow-stuff behind it.

"Fuck!" she swore, jerking away from me, her cloak billowing as she quick-drew her crossbows, firing them at Wingtip.

Wingtip barely moved, swaying out of the way of the bolts, then stood there, ignoring Shadow Stalker in favor of staring me down.

"You crazy bitch!" Shadow Stalker said, moving to reload. "You fucking psycho!"

"You're with her, now?" Wingtip asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Yeah," I said. "She's great. I really like her. We fit."

"You don't," Wingtip said. She flicked her eyes toward Shadow Stalker. "You don't." She folded her bow and stored it on her back.

Shadow Stalker slowed, lowering her crossbows, unsure.

"Well fuck you, bitch," she said, raising her chin toward Wingtip.

Wingtip nodded, solemn, then turned and walked away, her steps light, gliding over the snow. Gunner looked between me and Shadow Stalker for a moment, then grinned, wide and smug, her lips pressed together. She made the zipping motion again, then nearly skipped off after Wingtip.

Shadow Stalker watched them go, her stance still defensive, crossbows held ready.

"Well that was a fucking debacle," Rifle said, staring after them. He turned back to me. "I told you this would be trouble."

"Yeah," I said, quietly, watching the two of them walk away. "You did."


	18. Envoy to Disaster

**Chapter Eighteen: Envoy to Disaster**

"So, we gonna talk about this?"

I set a heavy sack down on the floor of my suite, beside the coffee table, then swung another off my shoulder and laid it beside the first. The rough canvas bulged oddly, stuffed to bursting with the materials I'd got from butchering the blangonga. Bones, pelt, fangs, and claws, for the most part. Some water bottles full of blood and... other liquids, as well.

I straightened back up and turned around. Shadow Stalker was standing there, arms crossed, her mask dangling from a finger. She was scowling, brows lowered and lips pressed together, an expression that was more fierce than upset.

"Talk about what?" I asked.

"Don't play dumb," she said. "And don't for a minute think I'm stupid. I know exactly what happened back there. That crazy bitch-"

"Wingtip."

"I repeat, that crazy bitch-"

"Wingtip!" I snarled.

Shadow Stalker took a step back, her eyes going wide. Then they narrowed as she advanced on me, jaw set and chin thrust forward, genuine anger blooming on her face.

She swung at me, and I caught her wrist. She blurred into shadow for an instant, freeing herself, and swung again, faster and harder. I caught her again, my gauntlet closing over her fist, engulfing it. It hadn't registered before, but her hands were small, feminine.

We both stood there, staring each other down.

"She tried to kill me," Shadow Stalker said. Her voice was low, but she didn't even try to hide the rage in it.

"She probably knew it wouldn't hurt you," I explained. "She's smart. She does her research. And she's _not_ crazy, so get that through your head."

"So she's a stalker rather than a murderer," she said. "Yeah, that isn't much better, and it doesn't make her any less crazy."

She winced, then blurred again, drifting backward. She reformed a few feet away, cradling her hand against her chest, staring at me, shocked.

"What the fuck, Hunter!?" she burst out.

"Sorry," I said, looking away from her, deliberately unclenching my hand. I hadn't even noticed when I started squeezing.

She flexed her hand a few times, then shook it before letting it drop to her side. "This is fucked," she said.

"Your hand?" I asked, alarmed.

"No, the situation!" she said. "I find out you've got an ex, and she shoots me with a fucking arrow, and now _you're_ defending _her_ to _me?_ You didn't say shit when she shot me, either, so what am I supposed to take away from all this!?"

"That I think you're tough enough that you don't need me to speak for you?" I suggested.

"Bullshit!" she spat out the word. "If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm gone."

"Go then," I said. "Do what you wanna do. I won't stop you."

She stared at me, not answering. Shadow Stalker had an expressive face. Big, bright eyes. Lips that stood out just enough to always catch my eye. She wasn't restrained, either. She could control herself, I knew, but that was a different thing. So when, over the next ten seconds, her expression morphed through shock, to hurt, and finally fury, I knew it was genuine.

What she did with that fury, though, I didn't expect.

She came at me again, hand reaching toward my face. Again, I went to grab it, but this time my hand passed right through hers. I barely had time to register that's she'd used her power before she hooked her thumb into the edge of my mouth and yanked.

It hurt. Her nail caught the inside of my cheek, and I turned my head on instinct, trying to step back, get away. It was a mistake. She hooked a foot around mine, caught me around the waist, then pushed, turning my attempted evasion into a throw.

I crashed into the couch, and it flipped over, tumbling me to the ground and sending me slamming into the divider between the living room and kitchen.

She phased through the toppled couch, and I planted a hand, trying to force myself up. She didn't let me. A quick shuffling step and her foot lashed out, hitting me in the elbow. It didn't hurt – she wasn't strong enough for that, even if I hadn't been wearing armor – but I went down again, sprawling awkwardly.

I scrambled for purchase, sitting up and bracing my back against the wall, and before I could think of what I was doing I kicked up at her, aiming for her chest. Once again my attack passed through her harmlessly, and she countered. She turned sideways and her arms locked around my knee and ankle, pressing my leg against her stomach, letting her use it as a lever.

What followed was violent, and I couldn't quite keep track of what happened. The room spun around me, and I felt my helmet crunch into something that gave way. White dust puffed out, and chunks of drywall fell into sight. The wall, I realized. She'd flipped me into it somehow.

She lashed out at me again, kicking me in the head, sending me rolling onto my side.

I growled, bunched up, then sprung to my feet, as hard and fast as I could. My heart was pumping, and I made the movement as brutal as possible, pounding my hands against the floor for extra momentum, moving fast enough that she couldn't touch me without getting hurt herself.

She didn't try. Instead she backed off a few steps, waiting for me to get upright, then came in again, circling around close to the wall.

I swung at her, not noticing the trap until it was too late. My fist passed through her, tearing through her shadow-self harmlessly and hammering into – and through - the wall. Shadow Stalker lifted her arm, moving to bring her elbow down on mine, but this time I was quick enough. I tore my fist out of the wall, sending it crashing into her side and leaving a gaping hole in the drywall.

She grunted, rolling with the impact and coming to her feet all in one motion.

We stood there, staring at each other. She was breathing hard, her face twisted with more than just pain. She took a step to the side, and I took one the other way in response. Her eyes flicked to the side for a moment, and she took another step. So did I, maintaining the distance, keeping my eyes on her.

I frowned, opening my mouth to say something, but she didn't give me a chance. She darted in again, layering punches into my chest. My armor absorbed the force, but they still rocked me, forcing me to bring my own arms up in defense. It didn't matter. She bobbed to the side, then came back with a hook that passed right through my guard, her arm phasing into reality just long enough to deliver the punch. It caught me on the chin, and another caught me a moment later, the quick one-two combo snapping my head from side-to-side sharply enough that my vision blurred for an instant.

If she was trying to put me down, though, it didn't work. I recovered in under a second, snapping my hand out, palm flat, pushing her away just as the next hit was about to land.

She stumbled backward but didn't fall. She came back in without hesitation, reaching for my extended hand, and I yanked it back toward my body. She was fast, though, changing targets so smoothly that she must have predicted what I'd do before I did it. She accelerated into a tackle, and I braced, but she just phased through me, and through the wall behind me, ending up in the kitchen.

Her foot coming from behind me, through the hole I'd punched in the drywall, caught me entirely by surprise. I pitched forward, arms windmilling, trying to keep my balance. The little steps she'd taken, positioning, had been to set me up for this. She followed up with a full-on tackle from behind, and I fell, slamming face-first into the coffee table.

It came apart under me, the wood and glass shattering. I sprawled in the wreckage, and Shadow Stalker's foot caught me in the ribs, flipping me over. I landed in the bags of blangonga parts, scattering bloodstained fur and bones across the floor.

She landed on me, straddled me, raining punches into my face, either around or through my guard. I punched back, but caught only shadow.

It only lasted a second. Then she leaned in, grabbing my face with both hands, holding it still.

"Give- up-?" she panted. Our faces were close enough that I could feel her breath, smell her toothpaste.

"Not even close," I growled back, bucking my hips, trying to get her off me. She rode the motion, staying atop me, then came down with a hard elbow, right to my mouth. I choked, tasting blood as my lips skinned against my teeth. She hit me again, in the nose, then reared up, bringing her elbow down into my throat with all her strength.

I gagged, my lungs straining as she ground the elbow in. I swiped at her, and she didn't even use her power. She bobbed around the clumsy swing, the pressure on my windpipe not letting up at all. She braced against a second swipe, taking it on the shoulder, then finally let go as I grabbed for her wrist.

"Give up?" she asked again.

"Fine," I grit out, refusing to give her the satisfaction of coughing. "You're better than me. So what?"

I tried to sit up, but she planted her palms against my chest, pushed me back down. I could have resisted. I didn't.

"Something you need to know about me," she said, her voice quiet, "is that I really, really hate losing."

I frowned, thinking. "You think you're competing against Wingtip for me?" I asked.

"No," she snapped, face set in a glare. "I'm not competing, because you're _mine_. We established that. It's a fact."

"So you beat the shit out of me because you lost an argument?" I asked. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't lose!" she said. "But you don't get to-"

"To what?!" I burst out. "Tell you that you can leave if you want to?!"

"You don't get to not care! _Dammit_ , Hunter!" she screamed, pounding a fist into my chest. "You said we fit! Was that a lie!?"

I stared up at her. From another girl saying that, I'd have expected tears, but Shadow Stalker's eyes were dry, set in a furious glare. I knew, instinctively, that if I said the wrong there here we'd be back to fighting.

"We've known each other less than a month," I said, slowly, choosing my words with care.

"So, what, I'm some clingy psycho now?" she asked, glare intensifying. "Or is this about the fight? I know you. You don't care about that shit."

"True," I admitted. "Frankly, I'd prefer a beating to dealing with a crying girlfriend any day. Fuck, I'd rather have my guts ripped out rather than that. At least I'll heal from a disemboweling."

"Say what you mean!" she snapped.

"You don't know me," I said, looking her right in the eye. "Yeah, we fit. Yeah, I like you a lot. But you don't know me, not totally, and if you think we can be together if you're gonna badmouth Wingtip, you're wrong. Full stop."

"If she starts shit with me again, I'll fuck her up just like I did you," she said.

I smiled, looking up at her. I couldn't help it. The anger I should have felt at the threat didn't appear – probably beaten out of me – and all that was left was amusement at the absurdity.

"She'd take you apart," I said. "You wouldn't stand a chance."

"And if I won?" Shadow Stalker growled.

I frowned, a minor spark of anger flaring up. "Get off me," I said. She glared and opened her mouth. "Get off!"

She was still for a moment, then clambered off me and stood up. I stood as well, turning my back on her and stepping over to the fallen couch. I hooked my foot under it and flipped it back upright, then flopped down, uncaring of the damage my armor's spikes did to the upholstery.

Shadow Stalker watched me the whole time, head tracking my movements, shoulders tense.

"I think you should probably go," I said. "It'll give us both a chance to cool down."

Her breathing picked up slightly. She turned sharply and took an angry step, then spun on her heel, back toward me.

"I've never had a boyfriend before," she said. Blurted out, almost.

"I figured," I said.

Her eyebrows twitched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I guess," I said. "I just figured."

Her face screwed up for a moment, and she shook her head. "I don't know... what to do," she said. "I- It hurts more than I thought it would."

I could hear the pain in her voice, pain that definitely hadn't been there while we were actually fighting. My chest tightened, but I didn't let it reach my face.

"You didn't do anything wrong," I said. "Fights happen. I guess with us that means a knock-down-drag-out. And that's fine. But it also doesn't solve anything. Go. We'll talk again in the morning."

"I hate you a lot right now," she said, her voice tight.

I shrugged. "If you still hate me in the morning, maybe we don't fit as well as I thought we did."

She flinched at that, but didn't say anything else. She just spun around and walked to the door, going shadow and phasing through rather than opening it.

Once she was gone, I sighed, sinking further into the cushions.

"God damn it," I muttered. "God _fucking_ damn it."

I sat there for a while, my emotions too tangled up for me to sort through them. Not that I wanted to. Nothing good ever came from introspection, I'd found. Thinking led to overthinking, which led to either mental gridlock or to me talking myself into doing something I didn't want to do, no matter how much I knew it would hurt.

Better – way better – to act in the moment, and let the future take care of itself. At least that way my fuck-ups weren't meticulously planned out in advance.

"Fuck it," I said, standing up and making my way to the ruins of my coffee table. I kicked aside some of the broken bits and fished my laptop out of the wreckage, dusting it off. It turned on, thankfully, and the screen wasn't cracked. I sat down again, laying it on my lap.

I found myself navigating toward Parahumans Online. I didn't use the internet – or computers – very often, but when I did PHO was my go-to. It had been around for ages, a collection of message boards and wikis that had sprung up even before the first portal had opened. It was formatted in an older style, remnant of a time when heroes and villains fought each other rather than monsters, but it was still useful. It had more information about capes and monster than anywhere outside the Protectorate's own files, and unlike them I had no trouble finding what I wanted on PHO.

I avoided the message boards out of habit, navigating through the wikis, searching for my target. Shadow Stalker's page.

Getting my mind off things had never been one of my strengths.

There wasn't much there, either fortunately or unfortunately. A bit of speculation about her career as a vigilante in Brockton Bay. A more complete article about her from her short time in the Junior Protectorate in Boston, with links to her old teammates. It included pictures of her costume – the same one she still wore – lists of public appearances – which I was glad we weren't required to do – and speculation about her power, most of it wrong. No notable kills attributed to her, which wasn't a surprise. The information about her time in Philadelphia was even more vague and incomplete. Just a few mentions of public sightings, the first one being when we'd taken the subway together on our first day in the city.

I sighed again. Nothing there to distract me.

Against my better judgment I made my way to Wingtip's wiki page. Unfortunately – or fortunately – it was even shorter than Shadow Stalker's. They didn't even have any speculation about her power. Just a name and a few pictures, with the traditional 'this page is a stub, you can help by expanding it' disclaimer along the top of the page. There was also a link to Gunner's page, which I studiously ignored.

Much as I wanted to deny it, the longer I dwelt on it, the more I found myself seeing things from Shadow Stalker's perspective. Especially the elephant in the room, the issue neither of us had actually voiced.

The more my mind turned back to the blangonga, to how _good_ it had felt to fight beside Wingtip again and how well we fit together, the more it felt like cheating. Thinking on it, it probably wouldn't have been much different if I'd full-on kissed Wingtip right in front of Shadow Stalker. We'd been that close, entwined in the fight to such an extent that it really was almost the same thing.

Had I even noticed Shadow Stalker while I'd been fighting? If so, I couldn't remember it.

Worse, I was starting to see Wingtip's point too. Shadow Stalker and I didn't fit. Not in battle. We couldn't support each other, at least not in the same way Wingtip and I could. We could fight the same monster, yes, but that wasn't the same thing. Shadow Stalker didn't need me to distract a monster for her. Her own stealth and mobility did just fine. By the same token she couldn't create any openings for me. The damage she did was too little, building up over time rather than being the sort a monster couldn't ignore, forcing it to focus on her to confront the pain. So we each fought our own battle, disconnected.

We could enjoy the same fight, but we couldn't enjoy it _together_.

"Fuck," I muttered.

Was it all like that? Our whole relationship? Was it just something built on physical attraction rather than a deeper connection?

And Shadow Stalker was attractive. She was beautiful, sexy, stunning. No problems there, beyond forcing myself to keep my hands – and other parts – within sufficient bounds. Even that just added to the allure, the anticipation, as we steadily did more, went further together.

I adjusted my pants, shuffling around on the couch.

But was that all? Apart from the one awkward dinner at her mom's place – which I tried to avoid thinking about – we hadn't even been on a date. Not a real one. Yeah, we'd spent time alone together. A lot of it, and very pleasantly. But was that the same thing?

If we started to tire of each other physically, if that kind of intimacy started to become boring – or worse, routine – would we suddenly find that we couldn't stand each other?

 _No_ , I decided. If all I saw in her was a good body – a _great_ body, a stellar body – then it wouldn't have hurt so much to see the pain on her face. If all she saw in me was washboard abs and a sculpted butt, she wouldn't have been angry enough to be lost for words and beat me senseless.

There was something more there, I was sure of it. For both of us.

I just didn't know what.

Which meant, of course, that I had no idea what to do to fix things. And even though it had been Shadow Stalker that had beat the hell out of me, even though I'd been the one to send her away, I knew that it would be on me to patch things up. Just how it was.

"Fuck," I said again, flipping my laptop closed and tossing it into the ruins on the floor. "Fuck it, I'll deal with it later."

My eyes fell on the spilled sacks of monster parts, still leaking blood into the carpet. I might not know what to do about the relationship part, but our teamwork in battle...

I was a tinker, after all, even if I rarely thought of it that way. Making armor for Shadow Stalker probably wouldn't help much, at least compared to the effort I'd have to put in to make it, but there were other things I could do. The potion, the hot drink, and the teleportation bomb all indicated that my power was a lot broader than I'd originally thought. Yes, prizes claimed during a fight still seemed to give me the most ideas, and result in the best equipment, but there was clearly another metric at play.

Maybe my power was more about materials I collected personally, with battle – or danger, or desperation – just adding some spice, increasing the potency.

I left the couch, crouching down beside the monster parts, sorting through them. There wasn't much there that I could use – though I did get a few glimmers – but the more I thought on it, the more other ideas came to mind. Some mushrooms I'd found in the forest, herbs from the desert, bugs from the mountains. Things I could make with them. Potions for more than just healing. Poisons to apply to weapons, or to mix into bomb casings. Things to paralyze or tranquilize. Explosives, too, in a variety of forms.

Sure, I could theoretically provide them to anyone. I could give them to Rifle or Rune, and they could make use of them too. But if I was going to focus on equipping and supplying anyone on the team, It obviously had to be Shadow Stalker. The others... they were there too. But it was her that I wanted to dance with.

I picked up one of the bones from the sack, turned it over in my hands. Armor might be out for now, but a weapon? Maybe.

I dropped the bone to the carpet, standing up again.

"Okay, yeah," I said to myself. "I can work with this."

First I needed supplies, and tools. Things I didn't have on hand. Things I didn't know if I could even get.

I left my suite with purpose, striding down the hall. Requisition forms weren't really my thing, but for Shadow Stalker I could make an exception.

I was so focused that I nearly collided with Rifle, coming down the corridor from the opposite direction.

He blinked on seeing me.

"Hunter," he said, surprise evident in his voice. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, brushing aside his concern. "Better than fine."

"Okay," he said, drawing out the word, skeptical. "I was just coming to see you. I finished the paperwork and had a talk with Chevalier. He's confident we've achieved our goal, though it'll be a few days before we know for sure. The next mission they hand down to us will tell, one way or another."

"Okay, forget that," I said, laying my hands on his shoulders. "Rifle. Buddy. I need a favor."

He sighed, confusion giving way to resignation. "What?" he asked.

"You still have contacts in like, the underworld and stuff, right?"

"Maybe," he said.

"Great," I replied. "Because I need some things, and I figure you're the guy to provide them."

"Maybe," he said again. "But not for free. You want something, you better have the cash to pay for it, and for my cut."

"That I can do," I said, grinning.

He frowned. "Okay," he said. "C'mon, we'll go to my room and get down to business."

"Perfect," I said.


	19. A Troublesome Pair

**Chapter Nineteen: A Troublesome Pair**

"Forty eight MRE packs, two from Poland for some reason, and five twenty-four cases of bottled water."

"Check."

Rifle made a tick on his clipboard, and Rune closed the wooden crate. It hovered off to join the six others they'd already inventoried, stacked in the corner of the prep room in the Philadelphia portal station.

"Why Polish rations?" Rune asked.

"A mistake by the supply division, I suppose. Or they just had them left over for some reason. Alright, next is..." Rifle paused, eyes flicking over the clipboard. "Four modular sleep systems. I'm going to assume those are sleeping bags."

"I think this is them," Rune said, tapping one of the crates. "But there's other stuff in here too."

"Right," Rifle said. "Um, it should be a tent- No, two tents, and two propane tent-heaters, with six extra propane canisters."

Rune rummaged in the crate for a moment. "In that case, check," she said, closing the crate and moving it to sit with the others. Rifle made another tick on his clipboard.

"You guys are really going all out."

I turned my head toward the person who'd made the comment. An older guy, costumed, standing in the doorway. He wore white armor, ceramic or plastic rather than metal, set over a black bodysuit. The way the armor panels sat, so close together, covering him completely, it seemed to all be one piece. Until he moved. When he did, the black under-layer showed through the gaps and made it look like he was cracking apart. It was a neat effect, and distinct enough that I had no trouble placing him.

Segment. One of the senior team leaders in the city. I'd seen him before, out of costume in the gym, but we'd never spoken.

Not that I felt like talking now, either. I sank back down into the couch, turning away.

"Our first long-distance mission," Rifle said. "I'd like to be prepared."

"Understandable," Segment said. "But word to the wise, it's always better not to be bogged down. Almost every hunt will require you to move fast at some point, and if you're carrying too much gear you'll probably need to leave some of it behind."

"The advice is appreciated," Rifle said. "But I think we'll be fine. If not it's better to learn our limits sooner rather than later."

"A point," Segment said, coming into the room. Three more capes entered behind him. His team. I recognized them, too. Unlike Segment their costumes were subdued, different from what I'd seen during public appearances, though still recognizable. Papier, wearing thick strands and cords of various materials woven into a long dress that trailed behind her. She could, I knew, draw them out and flatten them, controlling the resulting sheets in a variety of ways. Calling Card's costume was white, like Segments, though far less complex. She was missing the elaborate mask she normally wore, replaced with a functional helmet. She also sported what looked like a bulletproof vest, which wasn't part of her normal persona. She did, however, have her signature glowing cards hanging all over her ruffled sleeves, though they didn't have the elaborate writing on them that I was familiar with.

It made sense, I supposed. Her power – apparently – let her consume the cards to move herself, someone else, or some _thing_ else to the card's location, even if it was pretty far away. No need to waste what had to be expensive, fancy cards when a flat sheet of paper would do just as well.

Neon I didn't know as well, but his power was apparently similar to Papier and Calling Card. A shaker sort of effect, controlling material in an area, accompanied by bright, flashing lights. I assumed there was a trick to it somewhere, something that hadn't been made public. Either way it fit the team's theme. Three members corralled the monster, controlling the battlefield and preventing injuries, while Segment used his power to carve it up.

They had a good record. Any other day I'd have been happy to talk their ears off. Today...

I glanced toward the far end of the room. Shadow Stalker slumped there, her back wedged into the corner, arms crossed and head down, swathed in her cloak.

 _Fuck..._

"That's a lot of ammunition," Papier said, coming to stand by the crate that Rune had just popped open. She had a distinct – even exaggerated – French accent. "Are those... rockets?"

"They are," Rifle said. "Twelve of them, hopefully."

"Yup," Rune said. "Twelve. Also two cartons of flash bombs, one of sonic bombs, one of dung bombs, a case of grenades, four flare guns-"

"Those never help," Neon muttered.

"-and six cans of seven-six-two. Two hundred rounds each. Um, according to the side of the cans, anyway. Should I open them up?"

"It should be fine," Rifle said. "They're supposed to come factory sealed, and I doubt I'll need them all. As long as the explosives are all present, I think we can call that good enough."

"Yeah, they are," Rune said. "Check."

"Check," Rifle repeated, making yet another tick on his clipboard.

"Well, you're certainly going loaded for bear," Papier continued, watching the crate as Rune floated it across the room to join the others. "Interesting power. Can you control more than a single object at a time?"

"Uh, yeah," Rune said.

"Line of sight?"

"Working on it."

"You'd fit well on our team, I think."

"No scouting the newbies," Segment said over his shoulder. He was standing further into the room, sorting through the pile of crates, searching for something.

"Pardonne-moi," Papier said. She turned back to Rune. "I meant no offense, but teams must always be ready to fill vacancies. You understand."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Rune said. "No problem."

Segment gave up his search, clicking his tongue. He turned to Rifle. "I don't suppose you saw a couple smaller boxes in here?" he asked. "Just standard issue. First aid kits, a few maps. Few other things. They're supposed to be here."

"Sorry," Rifle said. "They might be buried under our stuff, though. If I'd known you were coming I'd have checked earlier."

"Not your fault," Segment replied. "The supply and munition weenies always mess this stuff up. Dang, I hope they didn't ship it to the New York station already..."

I felt the couch bounce slightly beside me, taking my attention off Segment.

"Hey," Calling Card said, raising a hand for a moment, the cards on her sleeve rustling. "Haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah," I said. "Guess I don't get out much."

"I'm Calling Card," she said. "So, I really must ask, is your armor made out of a yian kut-ku? Or is it just styled like one?"

"No, it's real," I said, rapping my knuckle against my breastplate. "My sword's made out of a daimyo's claw, too, if you were wondering."

"Sword?" she asked, peering around me. "Oh, goodness. Yeah, that's quite the sword. You're a brute then, I take it?"

I considering making a joke. The 'brute' line always fed into it so well. I didn't, though. "Among other things," I said instead.

"Other things, huh?" she said, sliding a bit closer to me. My eyes flicked over to Shadow Stalker, but she wasn't even looking at us. "Want to elaborate? Or should I guess? I can never turn down a good mystery."

"Ah," I said, leaning back slightly. "It's not a big deal. I've just got enhanced senses and a minor tinker power."

"That would sure explain the armor," she said. "I know some of the big-wigs get costumes tailored from monster parts, but it's pretty rare. Hard to do maintenance and stuff, or so they say. Expensive too. But I always thought it was a bit fishy. Did they put you through the ringer for what you got? I bet the paperwork was hell itself."

"Uh, my team leader does the paperwork," I said.

Her eyebrows rose at that. "Luuu-cky," she said, drawing the word out, the two parts distinct. She turned to Segment. "Hey, boss! How come you don't do our paperwork for us?!"

"Because I hate you!" he replied, not even turning in her direction. He bent down, lifted up a cardboard box. "Oh hey, is this-?"

"Nope!" I said, bounding to my feet. I took two quick steps toward him, skirting the pile of crates, and grabbed the box out of his hands. "That one's mine."

"Geez, okay," he said, holding his hands up defensively. "What's that about?"

"You shouldn't mess with a tinker's kit, boss," Calling Card said, sounding smug. "Thought you'd have learned that by now."

"Sure, sure," Segment said, shaking his head ruefully. He turned back to his search. No apology, not that it bothered me.

I returned to my spot on the couch, holding the box in my lap, arms around it protectively.

Shadow Stalker still wasn't paying any attention.

"Damn it," I muttered, slumping down and doing my best to ignore Calling Card's rambling questions.

I could not wait for Rifle and Rune to finish their inventory, so we could get the hell out of here.

* * *

Clouds drifted across the sky, pure white against bright blue. Grass rustled as Rifle circled the cart, or crumpled under the weight of the crates Rune was unloading. I ignored them as they worked, lying on my back, fingers laced together behind my head, staring up at the sky.

 _Be careful what you wish for._

It was a cliché, and I hated it, but it was true. Waiting in the portal station had been bad. The six-hour cart ride had been torture. I'd debated hopping out and jogging alongside, considered it a hundred time and nearly done it more than once. But that would have just drawn attention. Not to mention that, as plodding as they seemed, aptonoth could move at a pretty good clip.

I didn't have the energy or the drive to try keeping up. Didn't have the energy or drive for much of anything, if I was honest with myself.

Out of sight, I heard the stomping of huge feet, and the creaking of giant wooden wheels. I ignored them both.

Rifle's head appeared above me, upside down in my perspective. "Hunter, we're ready to get moving," he said. "Are you coming or are you staying here?"

"Can any of us really be said to be coming, right now?" I asked.

"Weak," he said. "That didn't even make sense." He gave me a kick in the shoulder. "Get up. Get moving."

"Fine," I grumbled, sitting up slowly, laboriously, each movement an effort. I planted my hand, then a foot, using them to lever myself up and get my other foot under me. My free hand grabbed my sword's hilt where it lay beside me. Then I got to my feet, slowly, by inches. Lastly I bent down again, just as slowly, and picked up my cardboard box, hefting it onto my shoulder.

Rifle watched the entire process, then turned away without a word.

Off to the side, the cart was already withdrawing at a good speed, leaving deep ruts beside the set it had made on the way in. Nearer, Rune stood in the middle of a circle of crates, half buried in the long grass, walking from one to the next and drawing her runes on them. Her fingers traced glowing lines as she ran them over the tops and sides, quickly sinking into the wood, blurring and disappearing.

"Where's Shadow Stalker?" I asked, turning in a circle, looking all around.

"Scouting," Rune said, glancing in my direction for a moment before going back to work.

"She has a flare gun," Rifle said. He was standing on the crest of a little hill next to where the cart had been parked, shading his eyes with his hand, looking around, a new gun I hadn't seen before dangling from a sling under his arm. "If she gets in trouble, she lets off a flare and we back her up. Same thing if we get in trouble. If everything goes well we'll see her again at the campsite."

"Campsite?" I asked.

He stared at me for a moment. "Our target-"

"Our target?" I asked.

"God, save me from lovestruck fools," he muttered. "Yes, our target. We're on a hunt. You know that much, right? You know what a hunt is?"

I debated playing dumb, but it seemed like too much effort. "Yeah," I said.

"Well, our target is a yian garuga. I'll assume you remember the last one we fought?"

"Yeah," I said in the same tone.

He sighed. "Christ. Alright, well one of them attacked a long-term observation post set up nearby. It was manned by a Protectorate team, and only two of them made it out alive. They retreated, set up a defended camp, but were attacked again and driven away. We'll be heading to their camp, and if it looks safe we'll stay the night, then start tracking the target in the morning. If not we'll find somewhere we can fortify and hole up there instead. Are you processing this?"

"Yeah," I said a third time.

"Hunter-" He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. "Are you going to be alright for this? If you freeze up in the fight-"

"I'll fight just fine," I said. "Don't worry about that."

"Guess I'll take you at your word," he said. "Don't screw this up."

"Why?" I asked. "Is it another test?"

"No," he said. "I wish, but no."

I heard a slithering sound behind me, like a huge snake moving through the grass. My head snapped toward it and my hand went to my sword, then dropped back to my side in surprise.

"The hell?" I asked.

"Damn, you really were out of it," Rune said, floating up into the air on a huge... thing. "I had this delivered days ago."

Not that it was that huge, really. Twenty feet long, it looked like nothing more than a big dugout canoe. Rune crouched at the front, and the crates of supplies were stacked in the middle, strapped into place.

"Okay..." I said. "Do we get to ride?"

"Hell no," she said. "Even I won't be riding most of the time, and if I can't, you sure as hell aren't going to."

"Why can't you?" I asked, gesturing to her. "You are right now."

"My power," she said. "Something this size needs lots of runes, and I can't place them in the same spot twice. So until they start fading out, I gotta keep finding new spots."

I opened my mouth to ask more questions, then let it close again. I didn't have the energy, or the interest. Besides, I could more or less figure it out. When she'd been loading the cart, the crates had each moved differently, presumably because her power only affected them and not what was inside them. It wasn't a huge stretch from there to assuming that her power worked better on solid objects, or possibly ones made of a single type of material.

It probably explained why she was using the sky-canoe rather than just using her power on the crates directly. That or it was made of wood from Pangaea. Or maybe the crates were too. I didn't really care.

Rifle examined me for another moment, then turned without a word and trotted down the far side of the hill. I followed, and Rune's canoe floated after us.

"You gonna carry that the whole way?" Rune asked after a minute.

"Huh?" I replied.

"That," she said, hopping off the canoe to tap the box on my shoulder, still drawing runes with her other hand. "You gonna carry it all the way to the camp?"

"Guess so," I said. "Hadn't really thought about it."

"What even is it?" she asked.

I considered saying something snarky, but nothing came to mind. "A gift," I said instead. "For Shadow Stalker. Was gonna give it to her a few days ago, but she hasn't been around."

"Yeah, she went to Boston," Rune said.

"How do you know that?" I asked, squinting down at her.

"I look out for the team," she said, moving to walk beside me. "Someone's gotta know where all you crazies are, in case somebody gets in trouble."

"You do that for your gang, before?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "We all did it for each other. It helped make sure that if some villain or psycho vigilante made a move, there would always be reinforcements incoming right away."

"It'd also make it really hard for someone to duck out if they fell out of love with your happy little family," I pointed out.

"Maybe," she said. "So tell me, would you rather I didn't? Because if you don't want me to watch out for you, watch your back, I won't."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, flapping my free hand in her direction. "You made your point. Thanks."

"So, what's your plan now, then?" Rune asked, gesturing to the box again.

I pursed my lips in thought, hitching the box up on my shoulder, getting a better grip on it. The plan to give Shadow Stalker a gift had made a lot of sense when I'd originally had it, and in some ways it still did. But days away from her had made me... less certain about things.

Should I have gone after her? Found her wherever she'd been – her mom's place, I had to assume – and given it to her there?

No. Definitely not. It was conceivable that some girls would appreciate their boyfriend making that kind of trip to apologize, but I couldn't see Shadow Stalker as one of them. She liked to be the one to set the stage – choose her ground – and she didn't like being surprised or ambushed.

Force – confrontation – wasn't the way to go about this. If anything, it would just be counterproductive.

"I dunno," I said after a minute. "I didn't make any backup plans."

"Well at least let me carry the box for you," Rune said. "You're gonna look retarded with that on your shoulder all day."

"Yeah, fair point," I said, stepping over to the flying canoe and putting the box with the rest of the supplies. Given how hard I'd worked on it, and how much I'd wanted to keep it away from Segment, giving it up didn't make me feel much.

I had no idea what to make of that.

We walked on, through the grass, up and down hills and through the valleys between them. Rifle led us, as he always did, one eye on his map and the other checking the terrain at every opportunity. He rarely spared a glance back at us, focusing on navigation.

"Want some advice?" Rune asked after a bit.

"What about?" I replied.

"Really?" she said. "Your girlfriend, idiot. What else?"

I eyed her. "What advice could you possibly give me?" I asked. "You're fourteen."

"I've had four boyfriends," she said. "I've got three older sisters, too, and five brothers. Even more half-sibs, and about a million cousins. My first lessons on how to catch a man were when I was eight."

"Creepy," I said.

She shrugged carelessly. "Maybe," she said. "But I can tell you this. Psycho Stalker's got a reason for what she's doing. The girl with the bow and arrows, well... A girl doesn't make sure her armor shows off her legs like that unless she's got a target in mind." She paused. "Or she's a slut."

"Wingtip isn't a slut," I growled.

Rune laughed. "Man, you've got it bad. I kinda feel jealous of her, if she's got a wild animal like you on that tight a leash."

"Grr, snarl," I said, enunciating the word-sounds as clearly as possible, with maybe a bit of an oxford accent. I added a posh, limp-wristed clawing motion with my free hand, for emphasis.

She chuckled. "God, stop," she said. "I'm being serious here. Now do you want my advice or not?"

"Sure, why not?" I said. "Go to town."

"Right," she said, her voice taking on a different, almost lecturing tone. "You've got a jealous girlfriend. Whatever else you're fighting about, that's the part that's gonna matter. First thing to know when you have a fight like this is that it's important not to be the one that comes crawling back. It's desperate, and nothing fucks you in the long term like seeming desperate, especially when you toss jealousy in there too. You need to wait her out, make her think you don't care, at least not too much. So she starts thinking, you know, maybe I am in the wrong here. At least a partly. Then-"

"Pretty sure I won't have any trouble with that," I said. I was long since healed, but if I thought about it I could still feel her elbow grinding into my windpipe.

"Well shit, good stuff," Rune said, reaching up – way up – to pat my shoulder. "That's like, half the fucking battle right there. So yeah, then you just need to wait a bit. Maybe put some offers out there. You know, not big ones. Like, smile at her when you see her, so she knows you're not super pissed, and maybe you're willing to talk. Make it feel easier for her to make a move. But don't actually say anything. Make sure that _she's_ the one that has to ask. When she comes to you, even if she tries to play it off, you know she's at least willing to surrender, and she knows it too."

"You serious with this shit?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. "Of course. Relationship battle tactics one-oh-one."

"You make it sound like a war," I said. "Battle-tactics? That's... I dunno."

"Why not?" she asked. "It's how it is. You either play the game or you get played. It's fuck-or-be-fucked."

I stared at her. "I see we've had very different experiences with love," I said, eventually.

"Wait," Rune said, turning to look up at me, confused. "No, wait. You really think what you've got is love?"

"Uh, yeah?" I said.

"Fuckin' Christ." She shook her head. "Shit, I don't know if her kind can even feel love, and I'm not entirely sure about you either. No, you guys can do the old lick'n'dick as much as you want, but no way do I believe it's love."

"This is a racist thing, isn't it?" I asked. "Also? Gross."

"It isn't, and fuck you," she said. "I don't care if her skin's black, brown, or fucking polka-dots. She's a murdering psycho. A real, legit psycho too. You don't spend years lurking in shadows, alone, hunting down human beings, unless your head's cracked." She looked me in the eyes, serious. "Don't set yourself up for heartbreak, Hunter. Whatever you feel for her, there's no way she sees anything in you beyond your body."

"I don't wanna get personal here," I said. "So don't take this the wrong way. But seriously, you don't have a clue what you're talking about."

She shrugged again, looking away from me, scanning the waving grassland that surrounded us. "Maybe. But I think I know her better than you do. You know Shadow Stalker was in the Junior Protectorate in Boston, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "She told me. She said she left."

"I bet she did," Rune said. "She joined up in two thousand and nine. Left it the same year."

"Yeah," I said, unable to hide my annoyance. "I know. She told me."

"So did you ever ask her what she did between then and now?" Rune asked, her voice getting sharper, more clipped. "Two years, Hunter. Two fucking years between when she left the Boston Protectorate and joined up here."

I was silent, not answering.

"Fucking figured she didn't," Rune spat. "Seriously, you don't get into this program without being fucked up. Me and Rifle were villains. Crooks. But when they got around to us they gave us both the glove, not the fist. They got in contact, laid things out, and made an offer. Shadow Stalker? They had to have the PRTCJ bring her in, and they don't do that without a good god-damned reason."

"Do you know what I did before joining up?" I asked.

She glanced at me for a moment, then shook her head.

"Figured," I said.

She waited as we both marched up a low hill, then spoke again when we reached the top.

"So what?" she asked. "What did you figure?"

"Nothing, really," I said. "Just that you don't know as much as you think."

"I know more than you did," she said.

"In some ways," I countered. She just rolled her eyes, but dropped it. She kept walking in silence for a bit, then sped up, leaving me behind to walk beside Rifle. Her canoe floated behind her, and I let it overtake me, walking behind it.

In some ways I wanted to consider when Rune had said, both about the fight and about Shadow Stalker in general. In other ways I really, really didn't. Given the choice between some serious thought about my relationship and... not that, I took the path that had so far worked out best for me. Or if not best, then least bad.

I put it out of my mind and focused on other things.

In this case, that meant the march itself.

I'd never been so far from a portal before – In Pangaea, at least – and it was a bit surprising how normal the terrain was. The same rolling hills and small, scattered forests that I'd been through a dozen times already. Of course, thinking logically, that wasn't so weird. We were less than a hundred miles from the station, and plenty of places on Earth Bet didn't have particularly drastic changes in terrain over that kind of distance. Hell, there were places where you could go five or ten times as far and not notice any difference the entire way.

Not that the landscape was identical, of course. The hills were more rugged, with bare rock in places instead of a uniform sea of green, and the occasional bare bluff stuck up in the distance. The forested areas were larger too, nestled in the clefts between rocky outcrops. Taller trees, with deeper shadows beneath them.

All of that, though, I noticed as barely background. For the most part I just trudged after Rifle, head lowered, staring at his feet.

Eventually the sun reached its zenith, then started descending down the sky. It set toward our left, which meant – assuming that things worked the same here – we were headed north. One particular bluff was looming larger as we went, and I had to assume it was our target.

"Since we've got some time, we should probably talk about something," Rifle said, at some point.

"Sure," Rune said. Her voice didn't have the same breathless quality it usually did on a hike, so either she'd been riding her canoe part of the time, or her cardio was improving.

"Hunter, you don't have to talk, but at least listen."

I grunted.

"Good enough," he said. "So, we're all aware of our general situation, right? Our place in the program, and the program's place in the Protectorate? Each of our goals, and how they intersect, or don't, and how that all fits into the program?"

"Uh," Rune said, sounding unsure. "More or less, yeah."

"Relax, this isn't a quiz," Rifle said, smiling at her over his shoulder. "I just want us to all be on the same page. I've been talking with Chevalier some, and I think I'm getting a better idea of how things work."

"Good or bad?" Rune asked.

"Both," he said. "I think... I hate to admit it, but I think I overreacted before. Not that I was wrong," he added hastily. "Just that maybe the Protectorate wasn't trying to screw us over as much as I thought."

"Hey," I said, frowning. "Who actually in the Protectorate was even doing it?"

"A good point," Rifle said. "And part of where I think I went wrong. Quick question. Can either of you name the leader of the Philadelphia Protectorate?"

"Um..." Rune said, and my frown deepened.

"Neither could I, until a few days ago," Rifle said. "I mean, it never even occurred to me to ask. We had Chevalier as our mentor, and that was kind of enough."

"He is a pretty big name," Rune said. "One of the first dragonslayers and all that shit."

"No question," Rifle said. "But here's a thing. Did you know that no parahuman is actually in charge of any of the Protectorate departments?"

"No," Rune said. "I didn't. I don't think the guidebook mentioned it."

"It did not," he confirmed. "It turns out that while heroes can lead teams, everything else is run by normals, and the actual branch is headed up by a normal too. Always."

"So who's in charge of ours?" Rune asked.

"Director Charles Ramsey," Rifle said. "He used to be the police commissioner for the city, and took over the top spot at the Protectorate last year."

"Never heard of him," Rune said.

"Neither had I," Rifle replied. "I had to look him up and do some research to even find out who he was, let alone what he did."

"Which is?"

"Lots," he said, his voice getting harder. "He deals with the central office in DC, as well as negotiating with the city government, and all the companies that want to post missions for the department. He sets the regulations on what gets posted, what percentage we get, how much the bounties pay, all that stuff. He signs off on requisitions, budgets, acquisitions, all of that. He's got the final say."

"He's in charge of our program, then?" Rune asked.

"No," Rifle said. "Not directly. Not the whole thing. But as far as we're concerned the buck stops with him. If he signed the right paper, we'd be out on our fucking heels. And nobody even told us."

"Okay," I said, raising my head slightly. "Maybe this is the existential ennui talking, but you're sounding pretty paranoid right now, man."

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not. I find it pretty suspicious that in all our time in the city, we never even had a meeting with our actual boss."

"Agreed," Rune said.

"Oh shut up," I told her. "You didn't even care about this until Rifle brought it up. Don't pretend like you're so concerned all of a sudden."

"You don't think it's weird?" she asked, defensive. "Like, if they intended to deal with us in good faith, to give us an honest chance, you'd think we'd have at least got to meet him, right?"

"Whatever," I said, hanging my head again. "Don't really care."

"I don't think it's as bad as that," Rifle continued. "Like I said, I'm starting to think my previous position was... not sufficiently nuanced, let's say. I don't think they intend to throw us out, or sacrifice us, or wring out what they can and then toss us in jail. I think they're... watching, for now. Seeing how we do. Seeing how well the project does as a whole, maybe. Here and elsewhere, with other probationary teams. Maybe if it blows up, gets some bad press, they'll shuffle us off somewhere out of sight. Maybe if it does well, they'll shuffled us out into the spotlight. Hold us up to the public as a 'success story' or whatever."

"Ugh," Rune said. "Fuck that."

"It could be worse," Rifle said. "It could be a lot worse."

"I guess," Rune said. "But still, ugh. No way I'm gonna go on a talk show or something and smile for the fucking cameras."

"No my first choice either," Rifle said. "But frankly it's not my biggest concern. Like I said, this is both good and bad. There's no question that we fell off the fast-track, and we had to claw our way back on."

He paused, a break that I felt he was waiting for me to fill, with a joke or otherwise. I didn't.

"Still, we got our chance. But now it's looking like it's not _just_ our chance. Other probationary teams are involved too. People we've never met, who may be way more prone to screwing things up than we are. And we're being judged, at least partly, by how well they do."

"I still say you're being paranoid about this," I said.

"Chevalier said the same, though not in so many words," Rifle acknowledged. "And maybe it's not quite so bad. But hear me out, tell me if you think I'm too far off-base. There's no question this is a pilot program, right?" He didn't wait for us to respond. "Right. And it's evident that the Protectorate is taking its time and observing things. I think that's beyond question."

"Okay, where does the bad come in?" Rune asked. "I mean, if they're giving us a chance, that's all I'm really gonna ask for. If we fuck it up, that's on us."

"We did fuck up," I pointed out. "And we fixed it."

"Sort of fixed it," Rifle corrected. "That aside, my point's pretty simple. Think about it. If the Protectorate is taking a wait-and-see approach to this whole thing, then they can't afford to graduate any teams until they're _sure_ the program's working. If it does, I expect we'll see a lot of teams graduate at the same time. Ours among them, potentially. But if the program doesn't work I doubt they'll bother graduating any of us."

"What?" Rune asked, half confused and half angry. "That's gotta be bullshit."

"Maybe they'd have made an exception if we were exemplars," Rifle said. "If nothing else they'd have been able to save some face, point to a team that beat the odds, something to justify the program even if it failed. Maybe some other teams are still on track for that. But we aren't. We screwed up, and even if we got our second chance, we lost the opportunity to be stand-outs."

"Even if that's true, it's only a problem is the program fails," I pointed out. "If it succeeds, there's no issue."

"Two things," Rifle said, glancing at me and holding up a finger. "One, it could take a year, maybe two, before there's a final verdict on the program. Even if it's going well it could be months more before information starts to trickle in, and I'm not happy being in the dark until then."

"Same," Rune added.

"Two," Rifle said, holding up a second finger. "No matter how long it takes, are you going to be happy letting our fate be decided by other peoples' screw-ups, or lack thereof? Think about this, both of you. Really think about it."

I scowled. Sluggish as my thoughts were, as mired as they were in my own problems, I didn't have to think about it. Even now, just having him mention it sent a snake of anger coiling through my guts, making my heart speed up and my jaw clench.

"Fuck no!" Rune spat.

"So what's the plan, then?" I asked. "It's not like we can go and steal another urgent mission. That trick isn't going to work twice."

"It nearly didn't work once," Rifle said. "I had to talk pretty fast with Chevalier and the bureaucratic types to get things sorted out. It's part of what got me started on untangling the org chart for the department in the first place."

"I repeat, what's the plan?"

He looked down, his jaw clenching for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've been thinking, and I don't know. We're effectively a four-star team now, so we're already above the level where we should be fully-fledged Protectorate. They can't give us another advancement mission without giving us the leverage to start agitating to be graduated, and they're not about to do that."

"What the fuck!" Rune burst out. "We killed the blangonga! What fucking point is there in being on the fast-track if it ends right as we get back on!"

"We're doing four-star missions, rather than two or three-star," Rifle said. "That's something. If we have the time to rack up some serious awards, get our faces out there, then at least they can't afford to toss us overboard."

He stopped and spun around, and I had to check myself to avoid stumbling into him.

"There's a reason I'm bringing this up here, by the way, rather than back at the HQ," he said, staring at me, then shifting his gaze to Rune. "They may not be bugging our rooms, but then again they might. So if we're going to do any plotting, it's better to do it somewhere that electronics don't work, and it's illegal for other teams to follow us out. Got it?"

"Sure," Rune said. "Got it."

I just nodded.

"Okay, good," he said, turning away again and continuing the march. "That said, I'm... I hate to admit it, but I'm at a loss here. Maybe we could get a patron, someone we could offer favors to in exchange for pleading our case, but this program is nation-wide and I'm not sure anyone we have access to would be placed highly enough to help. I mean, fuck, we've already got Chevalier in our corner and even he can't do much."

"The director, maybe?" Rune suggested.

"Pretty sure Rifle thought of that way before you," I told her. "You didn't even know his fucking name until five minutes ago."

"Don't start," Rifle said. "But yes, I thought about him. I don't know the man, though, and I've got no idea if he'd go for the idea. Or if he could help even if he did. Still, it's a thought. Something to look into. Carefully."

"That rules out the rest of us, then," I said. "So good luck, Obi Rifle, you're our only hope."

"I'm not sure if it's a good sign that you're joking again," Rifle said.

"Assume it's bad," I suggested.

"I will," he said. "Still, barring some back-room favor-trading, I can't think of anything. At least nothing that's for sure."

"Nothing's coming to mind," Rune said. "I mean, maybe I could contact someone from the Empire? Purity's pretty tight with the heroes these days, and she came to see me in the hospital after the elder dragon, so she obviously still cares."

I snapped my fingers. "So _that's_ why she was there."

"Maybe," Rifle said. "It's a thought, at least. But let's hold it in reserve. It might do more harm than good."

"Sure, okay," Rune said. "The offer stands, though."

"It might not, once Shadow Stalker finds out," I said.

"Yeah, well that's her fucking problem, not ours," Rune scoffed.

I growled, more a reflex than anything else.

"Quit it, Hunter," Rifle said. "At least Rune's trying to be constructive, so let's stay away from each others' throats."

"Fine," I said. "But unless anyone has an actual good idea, feel free to shut your fucking mouth, alright?"

Nobody spoke, which either meant nobody had an idea or I'd totally ruined the mood. Either way was fine by me. 'Misery loves company' might have been another hated cliché, but it was still true. If nothing else, Rune's sullen silence put a narrow grin on my face. At least for a few seconds.

We continued our trek, and I continued to trudge along in Rifle's wake, the ground climbing steadily toward our goal as the sun finished setting.

Night wasn't as dark as I'd feared. The moon was luminous, the stars were bright, and no ravening monsters came out of their dens looking to make meals of us. Not that I would have minded a fight, of course, but none came.

We reached the bluff about an hour after dark to find a number of flags planted in the slope, marking a trail that led to the top. Left by Shadow Stalker, naturally. The climb itself was easy enough. I had no trouble making my way up the steep, rocky path, and Rune simply flew beside us on her canoe, pacing our ascent. Rifle had the most trouble, scrambling up the final stretch in a panting, sweaty crawl, then collapsing to the ground at the top.

"God damn," he said. "That sucked."

"You could have hitched a ride with Rune," I pointed out.

"Shit," she swore. "I didn't think of that."

Rifle chuckled wryly, putting a hand to his forehead to wipe away the sweat. "Don't worry, I didn't either. Whatever, it's done." He rolled over onto his stomach and clambered his way upright, then dusting his hands off on his pants. "Come on, the camp should be up ahead, and Shadow Stalker's had plenty of time to scout it out."

The top of the bluff wasn't quite what I'd been expecting, looking up at it from below. It wasn't flat, for one thing, and it wasn't bare rock either. As we trekked across it, we had to make our way around short cliffs and over smaller rises. While it wasn't exactly forested, there were still trees, as well as grass and plenty of other foliage.

If I'd been in a better frame of mind I'd have taken the time to gather some of the more interesting samples. But I wasn't, and I didn't.

The camp itself was obvious when we reached it, and obviously wrecked, but I barely paid it any attention. All my focus was on Shadow Stalker, sitting on a fallen log, feeding a small fire by tossing chips of wood into it from a pile that had obviously been prepared by the previous occupants.

As it turned out, not thinking about my problems didn't make them go away, and I still had no idea what to do.

Seeing her there, shoulders hunched, head hanging as she glanced in our direction, her arm dangling almost limply even as she scooped up more wood-chips and tossed them into the fire, something rose up in my chest.

She was miserable, at least as much as I was.

I didn't feel pain, though, or at least not only pain. My chest did tighten, and I did have to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat, but what dominated that, forced it into the background, was the heat that spread through my limbs and rose into my face, painting it with a scowl.

I was angry.

Not at her, but I was still angry.

I turned on my heel, away from the circle of light around the fire.

"I'm going to run a patrol," I said, and walked away.


	20. Two Little Shadows

**Chapter Twenty: Two Little Shadows  
**

There wasn't much to do on a patrol, but it was something I'd done plenty of times. Both before I got my power and after. I'd never had to watch for monsters before, but keeping an eye out for bears and cougars – or police and the PRTCJ – wasn't that different. It was more a state of mind than an activity. Make your circuit, check on your chosen landmarks, then make another, closer or further away, rinse and repeat. The trick wasn't to look for anything specific, but to get a sense of the area, become familiar with it. Once you were, assuming you did it right, you became quick to notice any changes.

It went beyond visual, too. The smells, sounds, and just the feel of the area, they all became ingrained surprisingly quickly. Enough that a single branch out of place – or a window left slightly ajar – stood out as if it was lined by flashing neon lights. At least, that was the way it was for me, the way I'd been taught. By-

I glanced toward the fire, toward the black-swathed shape beside it. Even thinking about Wingtip seemed like a crime, now.

I frowned, biting my lip. Was I alright with that?

I didn't even have to think about it. No, I wasn't.

"Damn it," I muttered. I had no idea how I was going to resolve that particular issue. I knew in some ways I was giving it too much thought. I had my goals, both the ones I'd shared with the team and others. I knew I needed to act on them, especially given our precarious situation within the Protectorate, but if I was honest with myself I wasn't sure I wanted to. Wasn't sure I even wanted to think of them.

The past was the past. What I had now, I wanted to keep. I hadn't expected it, but that was wholly unimportant. Planning too far in advance had only ever got me in trouble, and giving up a good thing just for something my past self had wanted wasn't interesting to me.

Not that I didn't still want things, of course. I hadn't lied when I'd told the others about what my goal was. I wanted to be on top. I wanted to fight the big fights, and take everything that came from the victories. I wanted to be the first one people thought of when a crisis loomed. A play-maker. A ringer. That was all still true.

The reasons? Those might be changing. When I'd accepted the PRTCJ's offer, I'd had a very distinct plan. One that was, embarrassingly, beginning to feel kind of petty.

 _So, what?_ I thought. _Do I change course? Keep going?_

I wasn't sure.

What was clear to me – all that was clear to me, in some ways – was what I wanted _now._ That was a lot easier. I wanted to fight the yian garuga that had managed to kill half of a Protectorate team. A team that was trusted enough to man a long-term observation post. As distracted as I'd been by Shadow Stalker I hadn't really given it much thought. But now, patrolling around the camp and watching for that very monster, I felt my blood rising. I wanted a fight. I wanted to win, to carve up the body, take my trophies and turn them into my own strength, and then I wanted to go back to Philadelphia, take Shadow Stalker to my room, and-

I grit my teeth and forced that thought away.

Dwelling on it wasn't going to help. Thinking about the monster, and the fight to come, was a lot more productive. Even more productive, though, was to ignore it all and focus on the present. Let the future take care of itself. What mattered – all that mattered – was the present, and keeping watch for monsters and other threats.

I stopped beside one of the crates that lay open, sifting through it. MREs weren't my favorite thing, but they weren't the worst either. I took out a dozen of them, shoving them into my belt-pouches, then ripped open the plastic packaging around one of the packs of water bottles, pulling four of them out as well.

The next few hours passed easily as I made the rounds, chewing on a variety of sub-par ration packs as I did. Even so, and even doing my best to keep my attention on the present and worry about nothing more that the patrol, there really wasn't much to do. The top of the bluff was quiet, and mostly open. Not many nighttime sounds of animals or birds to catalog, and no nooks and crannies to explore. After the fourth or fifth circuit there just wasn't anything left to do. It was already night, and I hadn't said how long I was planning to patrol, so I had no idea if anyone was planning to come out and relieve me.

Of course I could have just gone back to camp and got someone. Woke them up. Passed the watch to them. But... no.

That wasn't something I wanted to do.

I reached over my shoulder and fingered the hilt of my sword. Tinkering, for me, hadn't ever been something I put too much thought or effort into. I knew it was different for other tinkers. Even Wingtip. And, much as I didn't want to think about her, Gunner. Hearing them talk about making their gear, it was a lot more deliberate than what I did. It required thought, and planning, and work. It could even become an obsession. I'd never been like that. I usually just slapped stuff together and made do. It worked for me.

Tonight it was a bit different, if only because I was looking for a distraction. Partly, anyway. Despite my normal modus operandi I had been giving my sword some thought. Its huge weight and length made using it difficult in a way that was totally different from my sword and shield. They were simple, even handy. The slash-and-stab motions of the sword had come naturally, and blocking with the shield had been as simple as holding it between me and whatever wanted to hurt me. I knew I'd never been anything like an expert swordsman, and probably never would be, but against monsters that wasn't a problem. Reflexes and strength mattered more than skill. Monsters didn't feint or riposte, after all, and you couldn't parry a fireball.

My new sword – my _greatsword_ – needed more finesse, as weird as it sounded. I'd done alright against the blangonga, but a lot of that had been because Wingtip had been there, acting as a distraction, covering for me. Before she'd arrived the monster had _caught_ my swing one-handed. If the elder dragon hadn't arrived that could have ended more than just badly.

The problem was, how was I supposed to use it? Chevalier had said, before, that every parahuman had their own unique perspective, based on the things only they could do. That, inevitably, extended to fighting styles. I could never wield a sword the way he did, because our powers were different. I couldn't shrink or expand my sword at will. On the flip-side, he couldn't create or fine-tune his weapons like I could. Or move as fast, or fight as tirelessly, or react as swiftly, not to mention a million other, smaller differences.

I closed my hand around the hilt, wiggling it a bit, checking the hook it hung from. So far it hadn't fallen off, even when I'd been scrambling around the mountain, and I didn't expect it to. Things I made tended to work as intended.

A quick jerk of my arms yanked it off my back, sending a test-cut whistling downward. I strained, and the blade stopped just above the ground. Difficult. Not something I could do in a fight. Most times I'd need to let the ground stop it for me. Or the monster, ideally.

So a fighting style that focused on quick, precise cuts was out. That was fine. I'd known that from the start.

I tried a few more test-cuts. They were slower, with less force. It took time and effort to accelerate the blade. I had to brace myself – or the sword – beforehand. Get my balance centered, prepare for the strike. Swinging it directly off my back was easier by far. Let gravity do some of the work.

I frowned and sheathed the sword again. Though it didn't actually have a sheath. But 'returned to its hook' didn't have the same ring.

Come to think of it, it was a lot easier to move around with the sword sheathed, and I had free use of both hands while it was.

Could I make use of that? It wasn't hard to get it back there. Maybe because of my power. I'd made the sword, the hook it rested on, and the armor the hook connected to. I had an intimate understanding of all of them, enough that I barely had to pay attention to the sword to get it in the right position.

I closed my eyes, swung it off my back again, then quickly re-sheathed it. It was easy. I repeated the motion a few more times, and I never came close to fumbling.

"Hmm," I mused.

I'd been thinking about doing some training, back at the base, to try to get a better handle on moving with my sword out, but my instincts – or my power – were telling me it wasn't going to work. I was plenty strong enough, but I wasn't _heavy_ enough. My sword weighed almost two-thirds what I did, and it was a over foot longer than I was tall. I just didn't have the leverage to do much with it unless I held it close to my body or let it trail behind me, and both those positions made it awkward to use.

Hell, using it on the move at all was probably a lost cause.

Except, I had used it on the move once before. When I'd been running with the sword on my back, I'd been able to turn my forward momentum into a powerful swing. A simple translation of forward movement into downward force.

I hopped in place, feeling the weight of the sword on my back, then crouched down and did a few stretches.

With it so close to my body, it really wasn't awkward at all. I straightened up and spun around, a quick pirouette. I had to position my arms to counter the weight, but it was easy. Not quite effortless, but easy. And since I never got tired it wasn't like I had to worry about the little bit of extra energy it took, or the bit of extra stress it put on my body.

"Okay," I said to myself. "Cool."

I turned and surveyed the bluff. As I'd noted before, it wasn't flat, or at least not entirely. There was plenty of terrain to work with. Areas with grass or scrubby bushes, some that were bare rock, and even some small stands of trees. Plenty of obstacles, and I wasn't about to find a more natural place to try practicing in.

I started running.

I headed toward a low cliff, vaulted up it, jumping a bit higher than necessary so my sword's tip didn't catch on it. The next obstacle was a fallen log, leaning up against another tree, leaving a gap about three feet high between it and the ground. I had to roll somewhat early there, to avoid bashing the hilt against it.

It went on like that, every obstacle requiring just a bit of adaptation on my part. Nothing trying, nothing that really slowed me down. It was... easy. Easier than I'd expected, even. Everything I did required just a bit more attention and awareness, but that awareness seemed almost instinctive.

 _What's the word?_ I thought as I went into a slide down a short slope, sending gravel and debris tumbling ahead of me. _Oh right. Proprioception_.

It meant, if I was remembering right, the sense people had of their own bodies. The knowledge that we had of what was where, even if we didn't have any direct sensory cues. It was what let us avoid tripping without looking at our feet, and it was why we didn't smack ourselves in the face every time we tried to scratch our nose.

Was it possible I had that same sense with the stuff I made? It would certainly explain a few things.

"Whatever," I said, hopping over a small boulder. I took the next in a spinning leap, throwing myself over it and coming down on my feet, already running.

If power-related proprioception wasn't the right answer, I was happy enough to use it anyway. The exact reason didn't matter nearly as much as the fact that I could do it.

I finished my lap around the bluff in good time and slowed to a halt. I could have kept going, but there wasn't a point. I knew everything I needed to, for now. Anything more would just be masturbation. If I needed to fine-tune things, I could do it during a fight, when it actually mattered.

My gaze turned back to the fire. It wasn't easy to see, hidden in a little hollow between a rocky ridge and one of the bigger stands of trees. Most places on the bluff I hadn't been able to see it at all. The overhang would probably hide it from above, too. A smart move, considering what we were hunting.

Of course, that hadn't stopped the yian garuga from finding the camp the first time, and driving away the survivors of the observation post. But so far I'd found no evidence that it had noticed _us._

Of course, with the monster on my mind I almost jumped out of my skin when a dark shape moved up beside me and tapped on my shoulder.

"It's just me," Shadow Stalker said.

I stared at her for a moment as I slowly lowered my hand from my sword's hilt. She was standing in a patch of tall grass that absolutely should have warned me of her approach, swathed totally in her cloak, nothing visible except her blank, metal mask.

"Here to take your shift?" I asked, lamely.

"Yeah," she said. "Rifle figured you could do with some sleep."

There wasn't any welcome in her voice, or any emotion I could pick out. My heart sank as she turned away, walking back to the camp just as silently as she'd come.

"So..." I said, jogging a bit to catch up, then walking beside her. She didn't answer, instead going over to the fire and picking a boiling pot off a rack over the flames. She took off the lid carefully and set it aside, pulling a package of ramen noodles out of a pouch. She tore the plastic packaging and dumped the hunk of desiccated carbohydrates into the water, then put the pot back over the fire.

"So," she said eventually, not looking at me, watching the noodles cook.

"So..." I said again.

She shook her head. "Fuck this," she said, her voice still flat. "This fucking sucks."

"Yeah," I said. "It does."

"I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to say," she said, her voice rising slightly. She took a second, got herself under control. "Emma says I should just say what I feel, and put this all on you."

"I guess she's got a point," I said. "It's usually the guy that has to do the apologizing for stuff like this."

"Taylor says I should stay calm, think things through," she continued. "Figure out what I want first, then try to get it."

"Also a good point," I said.

"My mom... said a bunch of bullshit," Shadow Stalker said. "Doesn't really matter."

"If you say so," I said.

"Shut up!" she snapped, suddenly furious. She visibly struggled, fists clenched, then relaxed. "Just... shut up. Let me talk."

I did, standing there and staring at her as she finished cooking the noodles. She didn't talk, though, just went through the motions of making food. When it was done and served she set the pot on the ground and walked over to me, leaving it behind.

"Tell me about her," she said.

I didn't point out that she'd just told me to shut up and let her talk, then hadn't said anything.

"Wingtip?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"No," I replied.

"Why the fuck not!?" she shouted, fists balling up again. "Just fucking tell me!"

"It's not your business," I said, my own voice growing angry. "I'm not gonna budge on this, Stalker, So drop it. I'm done with her, anyway. We're through."

"The fuck you are," she growled. "After what you two-"

"We're through!" I barked. "Done! Split! Ended! Finished! That's it!"

She didn't recoil at my minor tirade, but her breathing sped up, and her shoulders hunched, just slightly.

"You really piss me off sometimes," she muttered. She swallowed. "When you yell, you-"

"Sorry," I said, trying to modulate my tone. My words still came out clipped, but quieter. Not a shout. "I'll stop."

"Don't interrupt me," she said, her voice gaining strength again. "It fucking pisses me off."

"Yeah, alright," I said.

We were quiet for a while. I wanted to step back, let her make the first move – not because Rune had suggested it, but because it was the right thing to do – but she seemed lost for words. With her mask on I couldn't read her expression, but she moved a few times, leaned forward like she was about to say something, before settling back again.

"You're not like her, if you were wondering," I said. "Night and fucking day, you two. I'm not, I dunno, trying to replace her with you or anything."

"Not what I was thinking," she lied. Obviously lied. "Look..." She stopped, shuffled her feet. "I never met anyone like you before, alright?"

"I know. You said. Or close enough, anyway."

"Fuck, I guess I did," she muttered. "Shit. Fuck!" She stalked away, over to the trees, and slammed her fist into one of the trunks. "I hate how hard this is! What the fuck do I do!?"

"I dunno," I said. "I wish it were easier. I'd say 'go with your heart', but-"

She made a dismissive noise, angry. "That's what my mom said."

"Yeah," I replied. "Figured."

"You know the worst thing?" she asked, cradling her hand against her chest. She didn't wait for me to answer. "It's how much I like you. It's crazy. It's fucking stupid. It's all I could fucking think about since... you know. How much I... missed you. How much I wished we hadn't fought." She glanced at me, then turned away. "How much I wanted to touch you. Fuck!"

She turned away further, until her back was to me.

"Same here," I said. "It sucked. As soon as you left, I was thinking of ways to patch this up."

"Come up with anything good?" she asked.

"Maybe," I said, thinking of the box on Rune's sky canoe.

"I didn't," she said.

"We could just skip it," I suggested. "Go back to how we were?"

"Can we?" she asked. "Does it even work that way?"

"Maybe," I said.

She turned around again, stared at me for a moment. Then she walked over, carefully. I stood still, afraid that any move I made would change her mind.

She stopped inches away, looking up at me. She raised a hand, put it against the side of my face. I started to lower my face toward her mask, but she stopped me.

"Did you fuck her?" she asked.

"What?" I said, my face screwing up in confusion.

"Your ex," she said. "Did you fuck her?"

"Are you seriously asking this?" I asked.

"I am," she said.

I stood there, frozen, staring down into Shadow Stalker's blank, expressionless mask. She didn't move, her hand still cupping my face, almost tender.

"Yeah," I said, after a minute. "I did."

"How was it?" she asked. Her tone was as blank as her mask, no emotion in it.

I couldn't parse what was happening, had no idea what kind of answer she wanted, or what she expected me to say.

"It..." I started. "It was incredible. Nothing else like it."

She lowered her hand and stepped back.

"Go away," she said.

"What?" I asked.

"Leave," she said.

"Are you serious?"

"I am," she said, her voice still free of emotion. "We can talk again later. In a few days, maybe, once we're done with the hunt."

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open.

"Is this really happening?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Fuck," I swore, not even angry. There were too many emotions running through me to isolate just one. "Could I have said anything else?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't think so." She stopped, then shook her head, the movement seeming to surprise even her. "I... Emma's going to laugh so much at this. I always make fun of her when she complains about guys. I just... Yeah."

I whirled, kicking the pot of ramen as hard as I could. It clattered off in the night, spilling stringy noodles out as it went. I kicked the log next, sent it rolling into the fire, scattering it in a shower of embers. Shadow Stalker didn't flinch, didn't even move.

I stared at her for another long moment, then turned to walk away.

I stopped at the edge of the light, waiting for her to say something.

She didn't.

"There's a box on Rune dumb canoe," I said. "Take it. It'll probably help with the hunt." She stayed silent. I walked away, back into the night.


	21. Pride on the Line

**Chapter Twenty One: Pride on the Line**

"Damn, look at this place."

Nobody answered me, and this time I couldn't entirely blame the still-awkward atmosphere.

We'd spent the day combing the forest, searching for tracks or signs of the yian garuga, heading steadily in the direction of the observation post it had attacked. There'd been a few hints of its presence – footprints, territorial markings, the remains of meals – but none that were fresh, and no sign of the monster itself.

We'd reached the deeper forest the post had occupied around noon, and it had taken a few hours after that before we caught sight of the post itself.

It was worse than wrecked. It was demolished. Shredded. Torn apart. Destroyed in a way that spoke more of rage or hatred than simple animal instinct.

I paced a few steps forward, head tracking, staying alert. My hand hovered over my shoulder, near the hilt of my sword.

It was one thing to know we were hunting a monster that had effectively wiped out another Protectorate team. It was something very different to be standing in the spot it had happened.

I kicked aside a half-burned wooden beam, then toed around in the ash beneath it. I didn't know what I was looking for exactly. Clues, obviously. A hint of why the place had been attacked, maybe, or evidence that the wyvern itself had been injured. I didn't really know.

"Hey!" I said, raising my voice and glancing up toward Rifle. He was still hanging back, outside the perimeter of the savaged observation post. "Don't they build these places out of local materials? So they don't get attacked?"

"That's the theory at least!" he called back. "So far there's been good evidence to support it! They're not sure what was different here!"

I gave him a quick nod, then went back to my search.

The observation post had clearly been bigger than what I'd been thinking when I first heard about it. I'd expected a little building huddled on top of a bluff, maybe with a little tower made out of rough logs lashed-together with rope, topped with a little crow's-nest type thing, maybe with a spot to mount an old-timey telescope. I'd pictured the heroes manning it peering out over the terrain, tracking monsters as they moved in the distance, and making notes in little notebooks. At night, maybe they would have gathered together in front of a stone hearth in the middle of their single-room barracks, trading stories over drinks of crappy moonshine.

The reality was – or had been – very different.

Instead of a single building there'd been an entire compound. It was all destroyed now – wood burned, rough-cut stone bricks tossed in every direction – but I could still make out some details. Two of the buildings had been larger, and we'd focused our search there first. Not much was left, but based on the shattered remains of a few benches and tables I figured one had been a kitchen. Some shredded strips of dark metal made me think of a wood-burning stove, and the concentration of stone bricks tumbled into the ruin indicated that there had probably been a chimney, too.

The other large building had been harder to figure out, at least until I noticed the remains of burned papers buried under some of the rubble. That had led me to peg other wreckage as the remains of tables and chairs. Bookshelves too, I thought. Or maybe filing cabinets. A records room, or office, or something of the sort. Probably where they'd prepared reports, or whatever it was they'd been doing here.

But despite all the evidence we'd found there weren't many clues that were actually useful to us. No indication of why the attack had happened, or why it had been so fierce.

I clambered over the remains of a stone wall, barely knee-high now, and crouched down, turning over yet more scorched bricks and brushing aside more charred junk.

"I think there used to be a wall here!" Rune shouted

I stood up, glancing toward her. She was at the other end of the compound, where it merged into a tumbled slope made of moss-covered boulders. A few trees grew out of the mass, slanted at an angle, providing the area with some shade and cover from anything overhead. She was up in the branches of one of the trees, gesturing down at the edge of the encampment.

"Look!" she continued, pointing to some fallen logs. They were burned down to stumps and scattered over an area, but as she gestured to others I noticed her meaning. The way they'd fallen, at least some of them, indicated that they'd been set up in a line, separate from any of the actual buildings.

 _What's the word?_

"A palisade!" I called out.

"Or an abatis!" Rifle added.

"I don't know what that is!" Rune called back.

"It's when you sharpen the logs, or branches, or whatever, and face them outward!" Rifle said. He was approaching from the side now, still skirting the edge of the compound. "So anyone attacking you gets impaled on the spikes!"

"Doesn't look like it helped, either way!" I called.

"Yeah, it'd odd," Rifle continued at a more normal volume as he got closer. "The yian garuga we fought didn't use all that much fire, but this place is burned nearly to the ground."

"Yeah," I said, glancing around again.

Apart from the kitchen and the office, there'd been four small buildings that had probably housed the team assigned here. Two or three rooms each, there'd been evidence of charred bedding, carpets, and melted metal and plastic. Obviously stuff the team had brought with them, rather than locally sourced materials. Beyond that there had just been a few smaller structures. One had obviously been an outhouse, by the smell, and the others I figured were storerooms or something.

"It must have taken forever to do this much damage," I said. "Tell me if I'm off base here, but it looks like the destruction's pretty... I don't know how to put this. Evenly spaced, maybe?"

"Yeah," Rune added, floating down to join Rifle, crouched on top of one of the supply crates. She landed, then hopped off, coming to stand beside him. "I mean, when you attack a place, usually there's a goal, right? Somewhere you'd expect there to be more damage?"

"Exactly," I said. I turned in a half-circle, indicating the path Rifle had just walked. "Plus, look. If there was a wall, or an abatis or whatever, the monster took the time to destroy the entire thing. Not just one section. Shit, why would it even have needed to attack the wall in the first place? It could have just flown over."

"It's strange," Rifle said. "Worrying, too. You didn't find any bodies?"

"Nope," I said. "Not even bones. But there's a lot of places I have really dug into yet."

Rune frowned at me. "It doesn't bother you, that people died here?"

"Not really," I said.

She turned away, and Rifle put a hand on her shoulder. "I get where you're coming from," he told her, "but at the moment it's an advantage. It's why I sent him in, while we stayed on the edges."

"You're all heart," I said, grinning at him.

He gave me a level look in return. "Don't mistake me, Hunter," he said. "You're useful. When you play ball, act like part of the team, you get a pass on stuff. You can be seen as quirky or weird or whatever, and nobody bats an eye. But when you start to become a problem, then we have to look at you in a new light. Start to think, you know, if that one thing caused an issue, will this other thing? You get my point?"

"I'm guessing you're still pissed about last night," I said.

"You think?" Rune asked, in the most condescending voice she could manage.

"I told you, it's not gonna affect how we do in the hunt," I said. "Honestly."

"If you want to be honest, then I think you're underestimating the problem that interpersonal issues can cause," Rifle said, his brows lowering into a momentary scowl. "That's me putting it politely, by the way. And it's not like this is the first problem you've caused the team, either. Need I remind you of the elder dragon? The hospital? Springing an urgent mission on us by surprise? Don't tell me you forgot about all that."

I looked away, my own face twisting up for a moment. "I didn't forget."

"But you didn't care," Rifle said, a bit too accurately for my tastes. "It's not the rest of us doing this stuff, either. When have Rune or I caused the kind of trouble you have? Even Shadow Stalker only does it when she's around you. Frankly-"

"Fine! I get it!" I said, turning to glare at him. "Now can we get back to the mission?"

"Hunter, listen to me," he snapped, meeting my glare without flinching. "This isn't just about getting woken up in the middle of the night because of your lovers' quarrel. You're a problem. You're a damn good fighter, and yes, that counts for a lot. But it doesn't change the fact that without you we wouldn't have been in nearly as many messes as we have been. You're impulsive, reckless, and selfish."

"If you're just gonna insult me, I'm gone," I said. "Besides, I already heard this same shit from Chevalier."

"And yet, here we are," Rifle said, spreading his hands. "But no, I'm not here to insult you. Listen to me. Pay attention. Rune was a gangster, I was a thief, Shadow Stalker was a murderer, and you were whatever you were. We're not the kind of people that get to choose our teammates. We have to take what we're given, and in a lot of ways we got lucky. I'll take the shit you and Shadow Stalker pull over some of the shit I've seen any day of the week. At least we're not trying to kill each other."

"Get to the point," I said.

"My point is that you need handling," he said. "You had your chance to be the quirky asshole that makes us all roll our eyes, but everyone puts up with. You blew it. Now you get to be the troublemaker that we can still make use of, as long as we're careful. It's not as fun for us, and it's not as fun for you, but it's where we're at and you need to be aware of it."

I glared at him, but shook my head. "Whatever, man."

"For what it's worth, I didn't want to have this talk here," he said. "Fuck, I didn't want to have it at all. But the way things are going there's a very real risk of your little tiff spilling over and affecting me and Rune. It's not a dynamic that can last."

"So it gets to be everyone versus me, then?" I asked.

"You're the one that caused the problems," he said.

"Whatever," I said again, turning away from him. "Let's just get back to work."

He didn't protest, and I went back to sifting through the burnt-out husk of the observation post. I couldn't concentrate, though, and I found myself picking through fallen stones and charred wood without really seeing them.

Rifle was wrong, at least on some levels. Or at least biased. Nobody had complained when I'd carried Rune to safety after we'd been attacked by the yian garuga. Nobody had complained when I'd taken the brunt of the damage fighting the yian kut-ku, either. Or when I'd made the potion that had saved Shadow Stalker and Rune months in the hospital. Hell, I'd saved Rifle from the blangonga, and it had been me and Wingtip that had done the lion's share of the damage to it in the end. Nobody had complained about that.

It wasn't unfair, necessarily. But it was definitely slanted. I had zero doubt that I'd contributed far more than I'd caused problems. I'd even _solved_ a few problems that nobody else on the team could have. And I'd done it by being what Rifle had accused me of. Reckless and impulsive.

That wasn't what really bothered me, though. The more I dwelt on it, the more it struck me that Rifle was stating the problem, but not providing any solutions. Calling me someone that needed handling? Fine, I'd admit to that. But he hadn't gone the extra step and said what that handling _was_.

I glanced at him, still circling the area, gun held carefully, head swiveling, looking for trouble.

There was a difference between acting like a leader and actually being one. I wasn't sure which category Rifle fell into, but at least for the moment I was trending more toward the first.

The problem there was that nobody else on the team could even manage that much.

"Motherfucker," I swore under my breath.

It wasn't like I could even make that point, though. Not and be listened to. Not right then. So I stayed quiet as I searched, too distracted to accomplish much.

It was a relief when Shadow Stalker arrived, phasing into appearance at the edge of the compounded.

She ignored me, something that still made me clench my teeth, and made her way toward Rifle.

"Find anything?" he asked as she approached him.

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing useful anyway. Who knew it'd be so hard to track a flying monster from the ground?"

Rifle ignored her sarcasm. "We haven't found much here, either. No evidence of the monster, at least apart from the damage it did, and no obvious reason for the attack."

"Maybe it's laired up nearby?" she suggested. "Gotta be some reason it came after the place. Hell, when do wyverns lay their eggs? Could be mating season."

"That's something the Protectorate doesn't have much information on," Rifle mused. "It's possible."

"Just out of curiosity," I said, coming over to them, "do we know what the team here was doing?"

"No specifics, no," Rifle said. "The mission brief was pretty standard. In fact, I think we're the first people here since the attack. They wouldn't let a team that's less than qualified make the trip, not with a yian garuga in the area, and four-star teams don't exactly grow on trees."

"Hard to do recon when your recon team getting its ass kicked is what made the job available in the first place," Rune added.

"On that note, we are pretty well-suited to do recon," Rifle said. "Might be why the job came our way, rather than going to somebody else." He turned to me. "Hunter, you smell anything out of the ordinary?"

I shook my head. "Nah. Just ash and a hint of the outhouse. Besides, Shadow Stalker already said it. It's hard to track a flying monster from the ground, by smell or otherwise."

"Shame," he said. "Still, the point about the observation team's activities was a good one. This deep in the forest the base can't just have been to observe the area. They must have been going on patrols, or scouting for something."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Shadow Stalker said. "This place has got shit-all for line of sight, and it gets worse pretty fast even just a few hundred feet out."

"So what, the yian garuga spotted them out on patrol, then followed them back here?" I asked.

"It's a possibility," Rifle said.

"Still doesn't explain why it went out of its way to level the place," Rune pointed out.

"It doesn't," Rifle admitted. "But it's something, and I doubt we'll find much else here. We'll head out, see if we can find any tracks the observation team might have left, follow their route. If we're lucky we might find the point where the monster picked up their trail, and maybe back-track it to its lair."

"If it has one," I said.

"If it has one," he confirmed, then looked around. "Alright, let's get back to it."

I grunted agreement, and he turned away, walking toward the edge of the clearing. I joined him. I didn't want to be around Shadow Stalker right then.

"You need something, Hunter?" he asked.

I ignored, him, eying the gun that rested on his shoulder. "New weapon?" I asked.

He shot me a look, then turned his eyes back to surveying the edge of the forest. "It is. Why?"

I shrugged. "Just asking. I didn't really notice it before."

"That kind of goes toward my earlier point," he said. "You need to pay more attention."

"Alright, so you gonna tell me about it then, or just bitch?" I asked.

His mouth twisted for a moment. "Fine. I've been testing some different guns recently. Up until now I haven't been able to do much in our hunts outside some distractions, except with the rockets. I'm switching things up."

"How?"

He shot me a sour look, then lowered his gun from his shoulder and looked down at it. "Before this I was using a shotgun, because it's more versatile," he said. "I think we talked about it before."

"We did," I confirmed.

"Well, a lot of that versatility comes with various costs," he said. "Flash-bang shells, phosphorous shells, screamers, High-ex slugs, whatever, they are useful. The problem is that shotgun shells are big. I can only carry so many, and lots of them haven't proven very effective."

"Still helpful," I said. "We'd have been screwed without you, fighting the kut-ku."

"Hmm," he grunted, not quite a sound of agreement. "I'm used to being more than just helpful, though."

"So how does this new gun change things?"

Instead of replying, he slid a knife out of his pouch, raised it, paused for a moment to squint at the treeline, then threw. The throw was pretty hard, but the knife virtually leapt out of his hand, blurring as it flew with a sound almost like a helicopter. It hit with a metallic shriek, piecing right through the trunk and coming apart in a shower of metal, plastic, and splinters.

I grunted. "Not bad."

"Wouldn't work on a monster," he said, turning toward me. "You know my power by now, I assume?"

"Enhanced accuracy and range," I said. "Crazy-good eyesight."

He nodded. "More or less," he confirmed. "The extra range and accuracy come with a fair amount of enhanced force. It's how I can hurt monsters at all, with just a regular off-the-shelf shotgun. But like I said, shotgun shells are heavy, and I can only carry so many. I was fine with that because I figured they'd be useful. Versatile, like I said. But rifles have more penetration, and I can get my versatility from conventional thrown bombs. Maybe some grenades too. I can't carry as many, but they're bigger, more powerful. Rifle bullets are a lot smaller and lighter than shotgun shells, too, so I'll have more ammunition for longer hunts."

"That all sounds very logical," I said. "What are the drawbacks?"

His mouth twisted up. "Don't be an ass," he said. "I'm fine talking strategy, but if all you want is a distraction, get it somewhere else."

"Fine, whatever," I said, changing my path and angling away from him.

We searched the edge of the clearing, looking for places the observation team might have started or ended their patrols, or places where the yian garuga might have emerged, assuming it hadn't just flown in. There were a lot of options. I didn't know whether the clearing the observation post had occupied was natural or something that the team had cleared themselves, but the forest surrounding it was pretty dense. Big, old trees and lots of underbrush. It made any potential paths easy to spot.

Not that I tried too hard. I was still annoyed with Rifle, and angry at Shadow Stalker. Well, angry at the situation at least, and not a little bit at myself. So I just went through the motions, walking around the clearing in the opposite direction from Rifle, half-heartedly peering into the shadows of the trees. Eventually we met again, on the opposite side.

"Alright," Rifle said, returning with Rune at his heels. "I think we'll head out now. We'll stick together, move as a group. If we encounter the target, myself and Shadow Stalker will bombard it, flash and sonic bombs first, explosives second. Hunter, you use the chance to close in, let the rest of us take some distance. After that we'll support you as we're able."

"Works for me," I said.

He turned to eye Shadow Stalker as she ghosted in. "You're sure your new... weapon, is going to work?"

She glanced in my direction, and I nodded. "I'm sure," she said, sweeping her cloak open and raising the gift I'd given her, holding it in both hands.

For how furiously I'd worked on it and how much I'd originally staked on her liking it, I hadn't actually given its appearance much thought. Seeing it again, actually having her hold it, I had to admit that it was a bit... ridiculous.

Squat and boxy, it was half as long as Rifle's gun, but stocky. The barrel was a thick metal cylinder with a comparatively small bore. Below it there was a heavy piston connected to a charging handle, backed up against a complex multi-part magazine. Not the removable kind, either. The stock was fairly normal, though I'd wrapped it in pale leather, and the grip and trigger assembly were standard. Of course, apart from the small carry handle on top, that was everything that was normal about it.

It wasn't a gun. Or rather, not _just_ a gun. It did fire bullet-like objects – sometimes – and it did use explosives to propel them – partly – but it wasn't a gun. At the front of the weapon, just below the barrel, two curved bones sat, with a pure white woven string attached to them. The string fed through a slot in the boxy central part of the weapon, then through a slit in the side of the barrel. A crossbow, essentially, though the bone arms faced more downward than sideways, almost like an extended bipod.

The bones had come from the blangonga, and the string that ran between them was woven out of its whiskers. More, the boxy body of the weapon was covered with white fur from the monster, and I'd used a section of its tail as the strap, attached to the end of the stock. The materials were stronger than steel and just as light as bone and fur should be, but...

Yeah, ridiculous was the right word.

It was effective, though. I'd worked up a couple dozen types of ammo for it, with a bunch of potential uses.

Rifle had called his shotgun versatile. Maybe I'd wanted to show him up. If that had been my intention, I figured I'd succeeded.

"That thing looks like a piece of shit," Rune sneered.

"You're a piece of shit!" I snapped.

"Don't start!" Rifle shouted. "We're here to do a job!"

I shut my mouth, and Rune did too, but it didn't stop us from glaring at each other.

"Okay, let's move," Rifle said. "Shadow Stalker, Hunter, you two are on point. Find us a trail."

Finding a trail, as it turned out, wasn't very difficult. There were three that made themselves obvious as soon as we got far enough from the site of the destruction, all of them leading further into the forest, opposite the direction we'd arrived. None of the tracks were fresh, and all three trails were well-beaten, long strips of pounded dirt free of underbrush.

We chose one at random, walking along it single file, carefully separated so that no attack could hit more than one of us. The forest was deep, tangled, and for the most part quiet. No animal or insect sounds, just the occasional shaking of branches high up in the canopy, where the wind could reach them.

As we went, we left the smell of ash behind us, and the regular smells of the forest took over. Crushed leaves and wet loam.

The path started out straight, but quickly began to wander, looping around, approaching some of the larger trees and circling around them before moving on again.

Had that been part of the point of the observation post? Researching the local trees? Pretty prosaic if so, but then again we'd been sent out to collect mushrooms and herbs in the past, so it wouldn't have been too surprising.

Fairly quickly, though, I started to notice something else. A sharper smell, underneath the regular scents of the forest. Something I recognized, but couldn't quite place.

"Hang on," I said, coming to a stop.

"You see something?" Rifle asked.

"Smell," I corrected. I closed my eyes, took a deep whiff. The smell was faint, possibly faded by time. There wasn't any wind that deep in the forest, so the air was still. As such, smells probably wouldn't carry far, but they might linger for a longer time. "Gimme a sec. My enhanced senses didn't come with an enhanced memory."

He was quiet, giving me time to make the connection. The smell related to the forest somehow, and I let my mind wander, back to the various times I'd been here, in this part of Pangaea.

What came to my mind, eventually, was Wingtip. That in itself was a common enough occurrence that it took me even more time for the penny to drop. The last time I'd smelled this, I'd been with her.

"I think I just picked up the yian garuga's trail," I said, turning to look back at Rifle.

What I saw locked me in place, freezing me instantly.

I'd been leading the way, with Shadow Stalker behind me, Rifle behind her, and Rune trailing last in line.

Now there was something else bringing up the rear. It rose up far, far above us, looming and silent. The massive purple shape of the yian garuga.


	22. Revenge of the Garuga

**Chapter Twenty Two: Revenge of the Garuga**

"Down!"

The reaction to my half-panicked shout was swift, and not just from the rest of the team.

Even as Rune and Rifle dove off the path, and Shadow Stalker used her power to disappear from sight, the monster struck. It slammed its beak down, barely missing Rune, then kicked out with its huge, bird-like foot.

Thankfully it was a glancing strike, but even so it sent her flying, crashing through the underbrush, barely missing a tree, then clipping another with her foot and spinning to a stop in a dazed heap.

Of course I wasn't just standing there watching it happen. I was already moving as I shouted my warning, sprinting back down the path, hand on my sword's hilt.

The yian garuga didn't let me get close.

Before I even got near it, the wyvern flared its wings, snapping branches and tearing apart the close-packed foliage, then back-winged hard, lifting itself off the ground, flying backward and sending a blast of wind toward me hard enough to stop me cold. I backpedaled, arms flailing, barely keeping my feet.

It drifted in the air for a moment before landing lightly, taking a few careful steps to keep its balance.

Then, without waiting for another attack, it lunged to the side and disappeared back into the forest.

I stood there, frozen, hand on my sword, but it was gone. Apart from the lingering smell – a harsh, reptilian scent – and the damage it had done to the path and the forest, there was no sign of it.

"What the hell?" I asked.

"What was that?" Rifle asked, climbing to his feet and looking around. "Rune!"

"Relax, she's alright," Shadow Stalker said. I blinked. Even without her power active I hadn't noticed her. She stood up from where she'd been crouching over Rune, helping the smaller girl to her feet. Once they were both upright she dusted her gloves off on her legs. "But yeah, what was that?"

"You guys didn't see it?" I asked. "It was the yian garuga."

"You're sure?" Rifle asked.

"Fuck yes I am!" I burst out. "It was ten fucking feet tall! Kinda hard to miss!"

He stopped to look around, noting the broken branches and claw-gouges in the path, his eyes narrowing. "This isn't the normal pattern for a monster attack," he said. "They don't do hit and runs."

"The elder dragon did," I said. "The Kushala Daora. One attack and it was gone."

"An anomaly, for certain, but it also doesn't gel with the attack on the observation post," he said, stepping over to Rune. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she grit out through clenched teeth. "Armor held. Thanks for that, by the way."

"You don't sound alright," I noted.

"I just got kicked by a two-ton ostrich," she said, glaring at me. "I'm as alright as I can be."

"Fair enough," I said, looking around. Still no sign of the monster, but then again there hadn't been before it attacked, either. Had I just been lucky, turning around at the exact moment it appeared, or had it been following us? "What now?"

"We follow it," Rifle said.

I paced over to the spot when it had disappeared into the forest. There was a distinct, obvious entry-point, a gaping hole in the otherwise dense growth, the forest floor there covered with shattered wood and crushed greenery. Deeper in, though, I could see almost no sign of its passing.

"That might be an issue," I said.

"Explain," he said, coming over to stand beside me. He held his gun low, pointing at the ground, but his head was swiveling constantly, and his body was wound tight, on the razor's edge of bursting into motion.

It was, I knew, conductive to acting quickly. It wasn't, however, all that conductive to acting _well_. Being tense was a great way to lose accuracy, or even just do the wrong thing because your instincts clashed with your intellect.

"Hey, question," I said. "There's something I've been wondering about your power."

He turned to me, his already frowning face creasing further. "You're asking this now?"

"Sure," I said. "Might be important."

"Fine," he said. "Ask."

"So, your enhanced accuracy. How does it work?"

"Part of it's my enhanced vision," he said, his words clipped and abrupt. Trying to get the explanation over with as fast as possible. "Part of it's a sense of when I've got the aim just right, to hit what I'm looking at. Does that answer your question?"

"So it takes time to aim precisely, then?" I asked.

"More or less," he confirmed, almost reluctantly. "It doesn't take movement into account either. Well, it kind of does. I can hit a moving target just as easily as a stationary one, but if it changes direction while the bullet's in flight then that doesn't really help."

I nodded, thinking. No enhanced reflexes, then, or precog or something. I'd more or less figured that, given how he so often hit the monsters we were fighting but so rarely hit them in a truly critical way. No extra-normal sense of timing either, it sounded like.

In context it made his tenseness even worse, since it wasn't something his power helped with.

Either that or I was feeling extra-ungenerous because he'd chewed me out earlier, and I was looking for things to criticize. But I didn't think I was too far off base.

"I've got its scent," I said, coming to a decision. "We can track it that way."

"Alright then," Rifle said. "We'll keep up the line formation. You can take point, then-"

"No," I said. "I'll take point, but the rest of you are going to stick together."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"Shadow Stalker can cover you with the weapon I made her," I said. "She's also the only one other than me that might notice it coming." He stared at me, but didn't say anything. "Okay, look, I've just... I've got a feeling, alright? Don't ask me to justify it, because I'll have to think up some reasons, and maybe they'll be wrong. But right now? I think we're in more danger than we expected."

He held the stare a moment longer, than sighed and looked away. "I feel it too," he said, and my eyebrows rose. "Don't look so surprised. You're not the only one with intuition here." He closed his eyes for a moment, brow furrowed and head lowered. "Okay," he continued, looking up at me. "We'll do it your way."

I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good call," I said.

"We'll see," he replied.

Off the path the forest was deeper and darker than I'd seen before, in Pangaea at least. Closer to the portal the hills were more rolling, with streams and ponds dotting the landscape, and as dark as the forests were they weren't really _dark_. This, here, was. The trees were old, with thick moss-covered trunks and ragged, gnarled bark. They reached up and up, branches twining together in an incredibly slow-motion struggle for light.

There was plenty of dead wood, too. Trees died like everything else, and without the presence of humans the rotting trunks stayed where they fell, either forming natural barricades or leaning up against their still-living fellows. Moss, lichen, and mushrooms sprouted from them, as well as more vibrant plants. Ivy hung in places, and creepers I hadn't seen before, thick vines twisting over the deadfalls, hiding the decay behind multi-colored leaves.

I may not have seen a forest like it in Pangaea before, but it was still familiar. I'd been in the deep woods plenty of times, starting when I could barely walk. I'd been on my first hunt – deer, rather than wyvern – before I was ten years old. I didn't have Shadow Stalker's almost preternatural – and possibly parahuman – skill at tracking or stalking, but I did have instincts born of experience.

I knew when I was being hunted.

The more I thought of it, the more impossible it seemed that I'd turned around at just the right time to catch the yian garuga. It just didn't make sense. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but it had to have been stalking us, right there, waiting for the best chance to strike. But that didn't fit with the normal behavior of monsters, wyvern or otherwise. When they saw a human, or anything that came from Earth Bet, they attacked. Simple as that.

Except Chevalier had said that they were changing. Not evolving, but changing. Was that what was happening here?

For just a moment, I had a vivid memory of a wide, hairy paw, as big as my head, claws tipped with blood. I forced it down. Thinking about the time before I got my powers was something I did as little as possible. It was all in the past anyway, unchangeable.

I refocused, tuning my mind into my enhanced senses, shutting out thought, memory, and anything that wasn't part of the moment. My eyes strained for that one glint of light, my nose for the tiniest whiff of smell, and my ears for the smallest cracking twig. My muscles were loose, ready to spring into motion, but controlled.

I was calm. Ready.

When the yian garuga crashed out of the canopy above me, I was already moving. My sword met its beak, the impact sending ringing shockwaves of pain down my arms and diverting it enough that it hit the ground beside me, rather than on top of me.

It croaked in surprise and pain, crumpling into a heap, its long, rangy body collapsing in stages, folding in on itself.

I noticed again that despite the huge head, long tail, legs, and wings, the body wasn't that big. Was that how it managed to move through the forest so silently?

That was only a vague thought though, background and fleeting, barely noticed as I hauled my sword up onto my shoulder, readying myself for another strike.

The awkward weight worked against me. My blade swung down, biting feet deep into the forest floor, but missing my target. Too slow. It clambered away, clumsy now, stumbling and flapping, but swift. Faster than I could have kept up with even with my old sword and shield.

There was a dull detonation, off to the side, and the monster squawked in pain, hopping sideways and shaking its head. Another detonation, and another. Nine in rapid succession, each one followed by a spark and a splash of blood as heavy, blunt not-bullets ricocheted off the beak, the carapace, and the wings.

Shadow Stalker.

I followed up her barrage, stepping forward and spinning in a circle, sword extended, slicing through dead branches and green vines, building momentum that I discharged into the wyvern's side, just under the wing.

The blow was heavy. The edge of my sword would have made a razor blush, no matter how much it looked like a ragged hunk of claw I'd bolted a handle to, and it cut deep into the monster's carapace. It let out a strangled, rattling raven's croak, tongue protruding from its beak, and stumbled sideways, its feet nearly tangling it up as it got its balance. Blood poured from the wound, leaving a trail of red among the brown and green of the forest floor.

The others did their best to hit it hard, keep it staggering. The flat, echoing cracks of more normal gunfire – Rifle's work – joined the dull thumps of Shadow Stalker's weapon.

So close, I could tell that the monster wasn't going to just stand there and take it. It hunched down, bringing its wings closer to its body, layering armor on top of armor, and turned its head between me and the others.

I spared them a glance, but I could only see Rifle, crouched down behind a thick tree, shielded from a potential fireball.

He wasn't the target though. I was, and the attack was one I hadn't seen before.

In a burst of motion, the yian garuga leapt upward, wings beating. For a moment I thought it was trying to escape, and stepped forward to intercept, but its leap turned into a full backflip, dragging its spike-tipped tail along the ground below it.

The bundle of spines filled my vision, coming straight at me in a shower of dirt and greenery, torn up by the power of the monster's flip.

Then it hit me.

The force was stunning, the full weight of the monster's body behind it, and I went flying. I heard the vague sound of branches snapping, then felt another impact, and a second, shorter flight – or fall, as it happened – and then I was on the ground.

I braced myself, digging my sword – and how I'd kept a grip on it I had no idea – into the ground and levering myself upright. My lungs worked, trying to drag air into my body, but my whole chest was seized up, nonfunctional. I put a hand to it and felt a great rent in my armor, from my stomach up to my shoulder. My hand came away soaked blood and something else. A thick, purple fluid.

"Fuck," I slurred, then choked as the simple act of speaking sent a plume of nausea rising up my throat.

I tried to resist, and failed, collapsing onto my knees, puking. I hurled my breakfast, lunch, and last night's dinner onto the forest floor.

I couldn't talk through the stream of vomit, so I settled for cursing inside my head, a litany of silently-shouted profanities.

After what felt like an eternity my stomach was empty, and I took a wet, half-drowned breath, fighting my rebellious stomach long enough to get the air in. Then I stumbled to my feet again, looking around, bleary, trying to spot the monster.

It was gone. Or at least it was nowhere I could see. Again.

"Mu'fuck'r," I slurred, then spit, trying to rid my mouth of the horrible taste.

I stumbled forward, shakily re-sheathing my sword on my back. The weight of it nearly sent me off my feet again, and I had to slew sideways into a tree to stay upright. I stopped for a moment, leaning against the trunk and trying to get my breathing under control.

It was only then, with the apparent departure of the monster that my punch-drunk brain started to realize what was going on, and that realization sent panic surging through me. The purple liquid. The nausea, like nothing I'd felt since I got my powers.

I was poisoned. I could be dying.

The tension that had begun to spool down just a moment ago surged up again, and the adrenaline with it. My brain went into overdrive, thoughts raised and discarded too fast to be of any help.

Did I have an antidote? No, I hadn't even known that yian garugas were poisonous.

Could I _make_ an antidote? Yes, but not with what I had on me.

Would a healing potion help? Maybe, but I didn't have any of them either.

What about sucking the poison out? Given that the gash in my armor was big enough to shove my hand into and already streaming blood down the front of my pants, that probably wasn't an option.

Could I get back to the portal station, get help there? No, not a chance in hell.

Could I sleep off the wound? Maybe, but maybe not, and dying in my sleep wasn't remotely appealing.

"Hunter!"

I glanced up, blurry-eyed, to see Shadow Stalker approaching in what I could only call a cautious advance, darting from tree to tree, using her power as she went.

"Hey," I muttered as she approached, realizing that I'd stopping moving when I bumped into the tree and hadn't started again. "Not... not feelin' my best right now."

Her mask dipped, then rose, then dipped again, her gaze moving between my face and the wound in my stomach. She reached out, then snatched her hand back.

"Oh my god," she said.

"Yeah," I said. "Not feelin' my best right now." I frowned, realizing the repetition. "Shit."

"God," she said, raising her hand and running it through her hair, absently – or accidentally – brushing her hood back in the process. "What-"

"Poison," Rifle said, approaching as well. "Well, venom." He raised a hand, two fingers held up almost like a victory sign. I blinked at them. "Can you see how many fingers I'm holding up, Hunter?"

"Fuck off," I slurred. "I ain't dead yet, so don't go calling it a win, ass-munch."

"I'll take that as a yes and a no," he said, lowering his hand. "Damn it. We need to get back to the observation post. At least we'll have some open ground to work with there. Rune can make a stretcher, carry you back."

"Dumb plan," I said. "Open ground is good for you, but not us. We-" I paused, gagged, then tensed up as my wound pulsed with agony. "We, we us, we need... terrain. Obstacles. Bird's too fast, too strong. Tear us up in the open. Flies."

"There's defenses there," he said. He paused, bit his lip. "It's closer to camp, too. We can retreat. There's more first-aid supplies there."

"Won't work," I said. I closed my eyes, tried to focus, to speak more clearly through the rising waves of pain and nausea that radiated out of my stomach. "It's hunting us. This has to be what got the other team. Hit and run. We won't have time to move through the forest. Not like this. We need to fight our way out. Hurt it enough that it breaks contact, then run. We need..." I gestured vaguely, eyes still closed. "Traps. Terrain advantage. That stuff."

"Hunter..." he said, and I could hear the waver. The lack of certainty. "Yian garuga venom can kill in minutes. You're tough, but you're in no-"

The dull thump stopped him, and I doubled over, the pain in my stomach flaring up, so sudden and so bright that I had to grit my teeth to hold it in.

"You shot me!" I half-screamed. My jaw was clenched too tight for anything else.

"What?" Rifle said. "I didn't-!"

"I did," Shadow Stalker said, still holding the not-gun underarm, aimed at my wound. She fired again, another burst of flame whooshing out of the barrel, doubling me over.

Rifle grabbed for her, but only caught shadows. I couldn't even do that. All I could think was that she'd seen that I wasn't going to make it, and wanted to put me out of my misery.

"You called these recovery shots," she said, staring at me, her gaze penetrating. Well, given her mask, that was probably just my addled brain projecting, maybe based on her tone of voice. "The manual said they're for healing."

"Wait," Rifle said, turning to me. "You made healing bullets?"

I paused. I _did_ feel better. Not well, but better. "I guess so," I said. "I don't remember. Don't remember writing a manual, either."

Shadow Stalker lifted the not-gun, barrel up, and rested it on her hip. "Did they work?"

"Maybe," I said, carefully probing at the wound. It wasn't as painful, but I had no idea if it was smaller, or even if my tinkertech would perform that kind of rapid healing. It struck me as more likely that it would stop the bleeding and patch up internal damage. Gross physical injuries would be harder to tackle.

She lowered the gun toward me again, and I held my hands up in protest, but I'd barely opened my mouth when she shot me again.

"Fuuuuuuck," I groaned. "Jesus-prostate-massaging-fuck-you, that hurts."

She examined me for a long moment, then nodded. "It's working," she said. She turned to Rifle. "We should get back to the hunt. He's right about tactics. If we try to get out of this forest like we got in, we're not going to make it."

"Damn it," Rifle swore.

"It probably followed us most of the way," I said. "It let us get this far, to make sure we wouldn't escape."

"Yeah," Shadow Stalker said, nodding. "That feels right."

Rifle looked between us for a moment, his face screwed up, unreadable.

"Fine," he said. "I'll defer to you two on this."

"Work with Rune on traps," I grit out, gingerly removing my hand from my stomach, turning it over. I couldn't tell anything. It was the same hand I'd used before. Still coated with blood and purple gunk. If anything I might have just smeared some poison back into the wound. "Shadow Stalker, stay close, but circle around and try to keep out of sight. When it attacks again, keep in pinned down, give me a chance to get hits in."

"Why isn't it attacking already?" Rifle asked, glancing around.

"Waiting for the poison to work," Shadow Stalker said.

"We're more vulnerable when we're on the move," I added.

"We know the terrain here, now," Shadow Stalker said. "If we move we won't know what's around us, and it will."

Rifle closed his eyes again, letting out a long breath. "Okay," he said. "So we're making a stand here?"

"No," I said. "If we stay still it's gonna wait us out, maybe attack in the dark. We need to move, so we have a chance to turn the tables."

"How can we make traps on the move!?" he burst out, then stopped, squeezing his mouth shut. "Sorry."

I shared a look with Shadow Stalker. "Figure it out," I told him after a second. "Did you bring explosives? Rockets?"

"We did," he confirmed.

"Well there you go," I said, gesturing back the way we'd come, toward the path. "Let's get moving."

"Wait," Rifle said, holding his hand up. "You two are sounding very sure about this stuff. What makes you so confident?"

Shadow Stalker shrugged. "Woman's intuition," she said.

"Experience," I added. "I've been hunted before." I thought for a moment. "We're probably not a hundred percent right, here," I admitted. "But I think... Yeah, I'm confident we're more right than wrong."

"I guess that'll have to be good enough," Rifle said.

I gave him a thumbs up and a weak, sickly smile. "I'll take point again." I paused. "After I get the wound wrapped."

"I'll do that," Shadow Stalker said, raising her hand.

Without another word, we got to work. She treated me quickly, without talking. Her hands were steady, and more gentle than I needed. I wanted to say something, feel her out. Figure out how much of her concern was for me, and how much was for the mission. I didn't. I was still addled, mind half on her and half in the fight. I felt like anything I said would tip some kind of balance, and I had no idea how things would settle if I did.

She finished up quickly, leaving half of my torso wrapped in red-stained bandages, and the wound no less painful. But at least this way I wasn't in any danger of my guts sliding out in the middle of the fight.

She stepped back and gave me a quick look, between shifting glances at the forest around us, searching for the yian garuga. I just gave her a nod, and she turned away.

We retraced our steps back to the path.

Despite the recovery shots and the first aid, I could feel the poison at work inside me. A sick feeling in my gut – beyond the still-open wound – a burning in my chest and lungs, a tight throat, and those were just the most obvious symptoms. I had to fight not to wobble on my feet as I marched back down the path. I compensated by stepping hard, planting my feet as solidly as I could. I'd need a good, stable stance to swing my sword, and I knew I'd need to do that sooner rather than later.

It added an edge to the already tense situation. Not knowing when the attack would come, not knowing how much time I had, whether I was going to live or die, it sucked. I had to fight to stay loose, and my focus was definitely worse than it had been. In the back of my mind the thought lurked that we'd already blown our best chance. I wasn't going to be able to react as quickly a second time, or get in a hit so easily, and that wasn't true of the yian garuga.

 _Focus_ , I reminded myself. _Be in the moment_.

It was difficult, but I shoved away my doubts, my thoughts, everything that wasn't putting one foot in front of the other and straining for any hint of the monster's presence.

Time passed, though I couldn't tell how much, and when the attack came, it came at the worst time, in the worst way.

A fireball burst in the canopy, showering flaming liquid and burning branches down over me. I ducked into a stomach-churning roll, drawing my sword as I went and cowering under it, holding the huge slab of chitin and steel between me and the rain of fire.

Even over the hiss of liquid fire sheeting down my blade, I heard the crack and snap of breaking branches, descending not toward me, but the others.

"Damn!" I swore, sweeping my blade in an arc and scattering the guttering fluid to the ground. I stood and sheathed it in a single movement, breaking into a run back the way I'd come.

The fire had come as I'd rounded a curve in the path, where it bent around a tree trunk, leaving me momentarily out of sight of the others. The fireball had, of course, been meant to slow me down, while it went after its real target.

 _No,_ I thought. Something inside me told me that was too obvious. For some reason I couldn't quite place I was sure that I was the target.

I checked my rush as I neared the tree, slowing down, getting ready. Which was good, because I rounded the trunk to get a face full of beak, hammering down toward me.

A twist, pushing myself off the tree, turned into a roll aimed between the monster's feet. I came up behind it, barely avoiding the spike-tipped and venomous tail, and whirled around, ready to swing at its unprotected flank.

It didn't let me. Rather than try to spin around and peck at me again, as I'd been predicting, it half-turned and braced itself, then rammed sideways, a massive hip-check that knocked the wind out of me and sent me tumbling to the ground.

The attack wasn't a tenth of what the tail-flip had been – or at least what it'd felt like – but it still left me rattled as I scrambled to my feet, unable to breathe as my chest seized up in pain.

It didn't matter, though. I stepped back in, drawing my sword and sending a cut down at the monster's leg.

Again, I was one step behind. The yian garuga skipped backward and opened its mouth, letting out its ringing chime of a roar, then beat its wings, taking flight and flying over me. The one-two punch of the hideous sound and the rush of wind took me off my feet again.

I felt something ugly inside me, something I'd felt before, in very different circumstances. A brooding, guttering feeling. Anger and envy. I'd felt it when Gunner had fought the yian garuga last time, when she'd effortlessly demonstrated talent and tactics beyond what I could manage. I'd felt it watching Chevalier and the Triumvirate tearing apart the Lao Shan Lung. Raw power I'd never have. I felt it now, as a monster – a stupid, _mindless_ monster – toyed with me, demonstrating skill and strength I simply couldn't match.

That feeling lent an edge to my movements as I sprang up, sprinting after it.

It flapped once, directing its flight as it glided toward Rune. She thrust her hand out, sending a small boulder into its path, but it ignored it just as it ignored Rifle's rapid covering fire, diving straight toward her.

Rune's eyes widened, and she backpedaled, but it didn't help. She gestured frantically, and the boulder hit the monster's beak, dragging it out of line, just barely. It probably saved her life, but it wasn't enough. Instead of ramming that enormous beak into her, the monster reached out with a massive, clawed foot. It didn't rake her, though. Instead the huge talons closed around her, one going over her shoulder, another pinning her arm to her side, and the third digging into her hip.

She screamed, loud and shrill, and the wyvern beat its wings again, preparing to lift off and carry her away.

If it wasn't for Shadow Stalker it would have succeeded.

A dozen shots hammered in, silent, without the thump-thump-thump that had accompanied the earlier volley. There was no flash or spark as they hit, either. If I'd been any less angry – any less focused – I'd have missed them entirely. They appeared without sound or fanfare, materializing half-into the monster's wing, fusing into it still carrying their momentum. The result was almost gruesome, armored skin tearing from the inside out, though the damage wasn't all that much.

 _Right, that's why I had the bow-part in_ , I thought. So she could use it while in her shadow-state.

Either way, the barrage staggered the yian garuga, setting its wings beating unevenly, and it hit the ground, hopping on one foot – thankfully not crushing Rune – and trying to get its bearings.

It bought me enough time to close the distance. Just what I'd asked for, though I hadn't meant for her to let it attack the others first.

"Tree!" Rune screamed at the last moment, gesturing with her free hand. I checked my rush, changing direction, and snatched my sword off my back, bending sideways to swing at the trunk of the tree she'd indicated, just below a handful of glowing runes that were still sinking into the wood.

My blade cleaved entirely through the three-foot-thick truck, emerging in a storm of splinters.

Under her control, the trunk didn't drop. It twisted sideways, going horizontal with almost painful slowness, poised above the monster, still reeling under Shadow Stalker's assault. Only then did she let it fall.

The yian garuga didn't see it coming. It let out of croaking squawk as the huge weight – at least two or three times its own – pressed down on it, squashing it to the forest floor.

It flapped, flailed, and clawed at the ground, and in its panic it forgot about Rune. She scrambled out of its grasp, rolling and crawling across the ground, desperate to get away.

I was, if anything, the opposite, closing in again with desperate speed even as the fallen tree rocked and shifted. It wouldn't be long before the monster got free, and I _needed_ this chance.

I stomped my feet down bare inches from the struggling beast and grit my teeth, both hands on my sword's hilt. I had a chance, I needed a target, and one things stood out bright and clear and impossible to ignore.

My blade whistled down, cleaving through thick shell, steel-cord muscle, and hyper-strong bone, coming to a stop with a bone-rattling crunch over a foot deep in the earth.

The monster screamed again, louder than it had when I'd cut into its torso, and erupted up from under Rune's trap, leaving the end of its tail – with its cluster of poison spikes – where it lay. Severed.

I crouched, hands pressed to my helmet in a futile attempt to keep the sound of the scream out as the monster climbed to its feet. For a moment nobody attacked, our side stunned by the sound, the monster finding its balance now that it was a hundred pounds lighter on the back end.

That moment of stillness gave me a chance to notice something I hadn't, up until then. Before, I hadn't had a chance to get a good look at the monster, too surprised or too busy. Now that I saw it in full, I could see that it was already injured, even beyond what we'd done to it. Most visibly, one of its eyes was dark, slashed out of its head. The wound continued upward, leaving one of its scaly ears a twisted stump, making the head seem unbalanced on one side.

I recognized that wound.

I'd made it.

"Oh shit," I whispered. "It's you."


	23. The Lone Black Garuga

**Chapter Twenty Three: The Lone Black Garuga**

The yian garuga screamed. A vibrating explosion of sound that nearly burst my eardrums.

As answers went, it was pretty unambiguous. It remembered me too.

I rushed forward. There wasn't anything else to do. I knew now why it had gone after me and Rune exclusively. Last time it had injured Rune, but not killed her. She was the one that had got away. Last time I'd put out its eye and cut off its ear. I was the one it needed to get even with.

Still, for all that its remaining eye burned red with rage, it wasn't a berserker. It watched me come, head held low and wings high, ready to jump back as it had before. Keep the distance, then counterattack or break contact. But I'd seen that trick before, and I was ready for it.

I threw myself forward, swinging my sword off my back, bending forward and leaning into the hilt, putting all my weight and strength into it.

The yian garuga flapped its wings, hard, buffeting me with wind again, but this time I had too much momentum. Or at least my sword did. A hundred and fifteen pounds of chitin and steel, swung down with that much force, wasn't easy to stop. If anything I just rode along behind it, hanging on white-knuckle tight and fighting to keep my feet under me.

I made contact, even as the wyvern lifted off the ground, the steel tip of the blade clipping its beak. The hit was light compared to the others I'd dealt it, but it was still enough to unbalance it, send it off-course.

In a forest as dense as the one we occupied, that could mean a lot.

It flapped frantically, trying to stabilize itself, get away, but it was too late. One wing caught on a tree, smashing into it hard enough to strip off the bark, but as strong and tough as the monster was a tree was still a tree. It went down, tipping backwards and rolling over itself, the blood from its severed tail spattering the area.

"Stalker!" I shouted, sheathing my sword again and rushing forward. I didn't specify, didn't give any orders. Just her name. There wasn't a need for anything else.

The monster was on its feet before I reached it, but it didn't do it any good. I rolled under its stabbing beak and came up swinging, aiming at the wing that Shadow Stalker had shot. My strike was weak, without a chance to set my feet and brace myself. It still did damage, cutting into the armor plate that covered the limb, but not enough to cripple it.

Not that I'd expected to manage that with a single hit. Nice as it would be to ground the thing, prevent it from attacking from the air or flying away, a monster was a monster. Fighting one was never quick or easy.

Worse, my strike left me vulnerable. Another disadvantage of such a big, clumsy weapon. The yian garuga recovered from taking the hit quicker than I did from delivering it, wheeling on me even as I hauled my sword out of the forest floor. Again the beak came for me, stabbing down, a half-ton hammer as big as I was.

Of course, I wasn't alone.

Shadow Stalker materialized beside the monster, crouched, weapon braced, and unloaded. Dozens, hundreds of pellets – inspired, I hated to admit, by Gunner's own weapon – swarmed the wyvern. Individually the little pointed shards didn't do much damage, sparking against the monster's heavy armor, but with that much volume of fire it didn't matter.

The yian garuga squawked as pellets found their way into its wounds or opened new ones. It tensed, hopping and flapping, rounding on the new threat and spitting out a fireball, faster than I'd have thought possible.

Even with no warning, Shadow Stalker evaded it, rolling to the side and drifting into shadow, disappearing while the fireball incinerated the underbrush where she'd just been.

I followed up, turning and bringing my sword up in a rising arc, cleaving into its underbelly, then hammering a horizontal cut into its leg, nearly toppling it. Neither bit too deep, more about speed and pressure than anything else. I went for a third, but apparently that was too much, and the monster lurched forward, slamming into me bodily and bowling me over.

It kept going, a trampling rush that kicked me ahead of it and stomped me down, shaking the ground around me almost as much as it shook me, before bursting back onto the path and flapping upward, taking to the sky.

I groaned through a clenched jaw as I climbed to my feet, pushing past the pain. The kicks had been incidental, secondary, and nowhere near as strong as they'd have been if the monster had been focused on me rather than on escape. But still. I ached, and my stomach wound pulsed, impossible to ignore.

"You got greedy," Shadow Stalker said, appearing beside me. She ducked under my arm, helping me stand, then stepped away and scanned the canopy, alert for another attack.

"Thanks," I said.

"Hit and run, that's the way to do it," she continued. "It's better to skip an opening if it means you don't take a hit yourself."

"I get it," I groused. "Jeez."

She glanced at me, chuckled. "Don't be such a little girl," she said. "Gotta admit, it was pretty badass the way you took off its tail."

"Yeah, no way I wanted to be hit by that twice," I said. "What about the others? How's Rune?"

"They're fine," she said. "Fucker seems to have it in for you. Must be your charming personality."

"You're more right than you think," I said.

Something in my voice must have registered with her, because she turned toward me fully, looked me up and down. "Something wrong?" she asked.

"Yeah and nah," I said. "Come on, I don't want to have to say this twice."

She gestured, and I trotted off.

It only took a moment to get back to the path, and another to spot Rifle and Rune. They were crouched together in a hollow at the base of a tree, and half a dozen rocks and heavy branches hovered around them.

Rifle lowered his gun and stood up as we approached, then came out to meet us, head tracking, body still tense.

"It's gone?" he asked.

"For now," I said. "You saw me take off the tail?"

He nodded, slowly, the motion a bit grudging. "It was good work," he said.

I decided to let that pass. "Okay, so," I said. "Long story short, this yian garuga's the one we fought before, back on the mushroom-picking mission."

"No shit?" Shadow Stalker asked, interested rather than surprised..

"Are you sure?" Rifle asked. He was frowning, skeptical, and it took a bit of effort not to snap at him.

"I'm sure," I said. "Got a nice, close look at its face. It's missing an eye and an ear, the same ones I cut off last time."

"Don't mistake me, I'm not doubting you," he said.

"Bullshit," I said before I could stop myself.

"I'm really not," he insisted. "But you have to understand, this one isn't acting anything like the one we fought back then. It's stronger, too. Tougher-"

"Battle-hardened," I snapped. "Experienced. Vengeful. It's the same fucking monster, Rifle. I fucking guarantee it."

"Alright, assume it is," he said. "So what?"

"So we need to change tactics," I said. "It's not going to give up or slink away. Not until we're dead. If it was going to, it would do it now, after losing its tail. But I looked it in the eye, and retreat's the last thing on its mind."

"You're talking about a monster," he snapped. "An animal, if it's even that. It's not a person. You can't read it's expression, or tell its feelings, or anything like that."

"Maybe _you_ can't," I snapped back. "I'm telling you, it wants me dead, me and Rune, and it's not gonna stop until-"

"Why me?" Rune asked, still crouching against the tree. Without Rifle in front of her I could see that she had her hand inside her robe, clutching her chest, and her face was pale. "You're the one that cut its ear off. I didn't do shit to it."

"You got away," I said. "Think about it. Why else did it go after you, rather than Rifle or Shadow Stalker?"

"Because she was at the back of the formation!" Rifle shouted. "Because she's the smallest! Because it saw her first! We can't know! It's a fucking monster, Hunter!"

"Hey! Cool it!" Shadow Stalker said, shoving herself between us. She planted a hand against my chest, leaning into me and pushing hard.

I let her, stepping back. I hadn't even realized I'd been advancing on Rifle.

"And don't even think of drawing your sword!" she snapped.

It took a moment to process that. When I finally realized what she meant, I let go of my sword's hilt and let my arm drop to my side.

Rifle visibly relaxed, almost sagging in place, and let his own gun fall to hang by its strap.

I hadn't noticed that he'd raised it, either.

"We don't have time for-" Rifle started, but snapped his mouth shut and took a step back as Shadow Stalker jabbed a finger into his face, stopping just short of poking his nose.

"You!" she said. "You're not innocent here either! You've been about as useful as tits on a bull this whole fight! So don't get so fucking high and mighty!"

I started to smirk, but she rounded on me next, digging a finger past my bandages and sundered armor, into my stomach.

I grunted and stepped back, batting at her. Predictably my arm passed right through her head, and she solidified again a second later.

"You two..." she started, then paused, obviously thinking, "are such fucking _guys_. You need to stop this shit and start working together."

"Now wait a-" Rifle started.

"You weren't complaining-" I said.

Without looking, she slapped us both. I took the hit without flinching, but Rifle recoiled, then brought his hand up to rub his jaw.

"Shut up," she said. "Work together."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with the psycho," Rune said. "If you wanna bitch each other out, do it once we're safe and the monster's dead."

I opened my mouth, and Shadow Stalker jabbed her hand out, leveling a finger at me.

"Oh fuck off," I said, brushing it away. "I'm agreeing with you."

"Are you?" Rifle asked.

"For now," I added. "After this, you and I are gonna have words."

He frowned, eyebrows drawing together in what I kind of hoped was worry. "Fine," he said. "Just as long as there is an after."

"Okay, that's settled," Shadow Stalker said, turning to me. "So, tactics?"

"Right, tactics," I said, snapping my fingers. "I think we should head for the observation post, fight in the open."

"That's what I said before!" Rifle snapped.

"Yeah, and back then you were wrong," I countered. "I'll stand by that. But things are different now. The yian garuga's not gonna let us get away, and it's more clever than I expected. We need to counter its advantages and that means getting out into the open."

"You said it would tear us apart in the open," Rifle pointed out.

"It might," I said. "But it's better than the alternatives. It's _learning_ , and it's not gonna make the same mistakes twice. We need an even playing field."

"What if it just flies around and shoots fire at us?" Rune asked.

"I doubt it can," I said. "There's gotta be a limit to how much lighter fluid the fucker can store. And if not, we've got the ranged advantage." I reached over my shoulder to pat my sword. "I can block its fire, and it can't block bullets."

"Even if we assume that you're right, and everything works out as you expect, that still leaves the problem of getting there," Rifle said. "You were the one who pointed out how hard it would be, and that was before you suddenly decided it was a revenge-driven super-"

Shadow Stalker slapped him again, harder. His head snapped to the side, and he stumbled. He was frozen there for a moment, then straightened up, working his jaw, his face turning red.

"We abandon the path," I said. "Go through the forest. It's deep enough that we should be able to avoid the monster on the way, and if it does attack in close quarters, that's good too. Maybe Rune can trap it, let me finish it off."

"Maybe," Rune said. "But if we can sneak through the forest, why not just do that? Sneak away, get back to camp. We've got more C4 there."

"I don't think it'll let us," I said. "Maybe if I'd got its wing. But as long as it can fly, we're not gonna escape. Not for long."

"Whatever we're gonna do, we should do it fast," Shadow Stalker said, glancing up and turning in a circle, her weapon held to her chest. "It might not want to hit us twice in the same spot, but if it's pissed enough..."

"Good point," I said, looking around. The forest wasn't entirely familiar, but it was familiar enough. I pointed toward a small break in the trees, where the ground started dipping downward. "C'mon. We'll go this way."

Rifle didn't protest this time. We set off, staying closer together than before. I led, with Shadow Stalker ranging around the flanks, and both Rifle and Rune stuck close behind me.

I glanced back at them as we went, taking in what details I could. I'd been ignoring them up to that point, more or less. Maybe because I was pissed at them, maybe because I'd been looking forward to the hunt. It didn't really matter. I was having to rapidly reshuffle things in my head, get everything in order.

I'd started out thinking the fight would be a normal one against a monster I was already familiar with, then shifted to thinking it was an especially clever and powerful not-evolved-but-something-else version, to finally realizing we were up against a creature driven by more than just hunger or blind hatred of things from Earth Bet. My instincts generally served me well, and I preferred to rely on them when I could, but they could also trip me up if my expectations were wrong.

Of course, so could over-thinking things. Sometimes it was just a matter of getting fucked no matter what I did.

I forced that thought out of my head and focused. Rifle had a new gun, though I didn't know enough to say anything beyond that. It was bigger than his shotgun, with a large, curved magazine. Not a hunting rifle, but going by his supporting fire it wasn't an assault rifle either. Either way it wasn't likely to be decisive.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Next time we're attacked, focus on getting a good hit in with a rocket," I told him. "Don't bother with normal bullets. If you can't manage that, stick to thrown bombs. You said you brought some, right?"

"I did," he said, patting a pouch on his belt. "Anything else?"

I eyed him for a moment. His costume had always just been tactical gear and fancy goggles, big enough to hide a good portion of his face, but it looked like he'd added body armor at some point. Even his pants had hard angles to them, indicating protective plates of some kind. It wouldn't help if a monster hit him dead-on, but it still indicated a change in his way of thinking.

"No," I said. "We're good."

Rune was harder to peg. Her robe was all-encompassing, hiding anything underneath. Even her features were hard to make out, other than her chin, and that was framed by blonde hair that draped down all the way to her stomach. But she'd mentioned armor, and it had apparently done a good enough job that she was still on her feet after taking a hit that even I might have felt. There was something about the way she was moving, too. Before, had she been clutching her chest, or had she been drawing runes on her body armor? Either way I wasn't expecting her to play a huge part in the fight. But if she could at least protect herself, that was good.

My eyes shifted to the crate that still hovered behind her. I hadn't paid that much attention to it either, during the fight.

"What sort of tools do we have to work with?" I asked, nodding to the crate.

"Uh, about fifty pounds of high-ex," Rune said. "Some grenades, flash and sonic bombs, extra rockets and ammo, rope, flares, first-aid kits, and a day's worth of food and water." She paused. "Also some maps and glow sticks and shit, I guess."

"Glow sticks?" I asked.

"Not everybody has enhanced senses," Rifle said. "Flashlights don't work in Pangaea, and lanterns are too bulky. Glow sticks work by a chemical reaction, and these ones are pretty powerful."

"Huh," I said. "Okay."

"Something we can use?" Rifle asked.

"Oh," I said, turning back and brushing some creepers out of our path. "Nah, just interesting."

Odd as it was, I found it almost easier to make my way through the deep brush than it had been to follow the path. Or at least more comfortable. Maybe I just had a difference sense of how to navigate than whoever had broken the trail, or maybe I didn't feel as exposed this way. No way to know.

I crouched down for a moment in the crux of two trees that had fallen against each other, sticking my head out and glancing around quickly. No sign of the yian garuga, although-

 _Ah, spoke too soon._

It was perched up in one of the biggest trees nearby, hunched down, using its claw-tipped wings as well as its talons to keep itself anchored. There wasn't much of a gap in the canopy, and there was plenty of foliage between us, but it wasn't looking around or searching for us. Even from hundreds of feet away I could see its single burning eye fixed on me, glaring hatred in my direction.

It opened its mouth in a croak that was too far away for me to hear, then spread its wings and took flight. I tensed for a moment, but it didn't seem to be coming our way. Just moving to somewhere out of sight, where Shadow Stalker and Rifle wouldn't be able to hit it.

I let out a breath, then gestured for the others to follow me. We quickly made our way across a small open patch, toward a cliff face I'd spotted earlier. There was a little ravine at the base, possibly a stream at other times of year. It was overgrown as hell, but between the cliff and the trees that packed the far side I figured it would be fairly safe. If the yian garuga wanted to attack us there it would be heavily constrained. So would we, but that didn't matter as much.

We kept going, hacking our way through the bushes, vines, and thick stands of grass, moving at a slow but steady pace. If anyone but me had been breaking trail, they would have been exhausted in minutes, and even for me it was draining. I spent nearly as much time munching on jerky as I did swinging my knife.

I wasn't sure what tipped me off, but I froze in the process of sawing through a particularly stubborn sapling, looking up.

At the top of the cliff, the yian garuga's head was just barely visible through the canopy. It stared down at me for a moment, then withdrew out of sight.

"Shit," I swore.

"Problem?" Rifle asked.

"Nah," I said, looking down again and sawing with renewed vigor. "Not really."

Was it showing itself deliberately? A message, that we couldn't escape it? Trying to keep us off-balance? Wear us down? Was it even smart enough for something like that? My experience with monsters up to that point said 'no', or at least 'probably not', but my instincts said 'yeah, for fuckin' sure, bro'.

People – most people – underestimated animals. Animals weren't smart. They didn't have intelligence as such. Not how it was commonly thought of, anyway. I'd never met a deer that could do even second-grade math, or that knew the difference between an adjective and an adverb – not that I did either – but that wasn't something they needed. They had their own kind of... not intelligence, or even wisdom. Not precisely. But it was more than just blind instinct.

Sure, a raccoon might be dumb enough to try washing a sugar cube in a puddle before eating it, and a mouse might not notice a cat that was right in front of it until the cat moved, but that... That was a different thing.

"Damn it," I muttered, chopping down a thick, thorny bush, then tossing it out of the ravine. Trying to frame experience and intuition with words wasn't easy, and it wasn't something I'd ever had any skill at. Even before being poisoned.

What it came down to, at least for me, was that animals could _learn_. They were each unique, and they could _grow_. It was the same capacity that was so magnified in people. At a lower level, but still there. Up to now I'd never seen it in a monster. They were too ferociously single-minded for that. They ran on instinct, and when they saw a human that instinct said 'kill at all costs'. They lacked – or seemed to lack – that _spark_ of something more.

The idea that they might have it after all was both terrifying and exhilarating.

After all, I'd seen animals outwit people more than once. A monster that could do it too would be... something else.

Again, the memory of a bloodied paw.

I pushed down the terror, focused on the excitement. All my best memories were the ones that sat on the edge between fear and desire, whether it was fighting or fucking. The fear added a spice like nothing else could, but if I let it, it could be paralyzing.

Better to focus on the desire. The release of victory, and what came after. The bloody height of the climax, and the afterglow that proved I was still alive.

I sheathed my knife, drew my sword, and hammered it down, severing an eight-foot-long gash in the undergrowth, clearing the path.

 _That_ was me. _That_ was the focus. Desire and release. Ebb and flow. Life and death.

Last time I'd put it in those words I'd been laughed our of the room. But fuck it, they still resonated. They still felt right, even if it was just in my own head.

We left the protection of the cliff face as afternoon started to fade into evening, and the light that filtered down through the canopy faded, greens during to duller grays.

"We're not going to make the observation post," Rifle said. "Not while the light lasts."

"I know," I said.

"We should look for shelter," he said. "Hole up for the night."

"I know," I said.

"Are we going to?" he asked.

I paused, thinking. There was no way I was going to get any sleep, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. No chance for some private time with Shadow Stalker either, not with the way things still were between us, but that too had its compensations. A night alone, on watch while the others slept, might be just the thing to hone my desire for the fight to come.

I grinned, thinking about it. The agony of the buildup, heightening the climax.

"Yeah," I growled, glancing back at him. "I'll start looking for a place."

He blanched, then deliberately smoothed his face.

I thought of how I must look. Bloody, chin streaked with vomit, armor torn open, and smiling like a maniac.

There wasn't any helping it. I laughed, and the distant scream of the yian garuga joined me.


	24. Howling at the Moon

**Chapter Twenty Four: Howling at the Moon**

"Oh wow, it's so big!"

I snickered, and Sarah blushed, looking away, out the truck's side window.

"You're such an ass!" Megan said, punching my shoulder. I ignored it. Sharing the tiny back seat of the old Dodge Ram with her was a sacrifice, but nobody had questioned Sarah getting the front seat.

Mr. Begay chuckled. "Be nice, Meg," he said.

"Fine, whatever," Megan said, crossing her arms and leaning back in the threadbare seat.

"Besides," he added, "if you kids think Juneau's big, wait 'til we get to Anchorage."

We all made excited noises at that. Genuine ones. Even Megan.

Mr. Begay pulled the truck into a convenience store parking lot. I watched as he fiddled with the clutch, then cranked the parking brake.

"Okay kids," he said. "I'll be a couple minutes. Take a look around, but don't go far."

"Yes dad," Sarah said.

He chuckled again, ruffling her hair, his hand slightly unsteady. She smiled back at him, smoothing it out again. "That's my girl," he said, opening the door and stepping out. "Be back soon."

We all got out after him, and I walked a few steps, looking around. The buildings were huge, and packed tighter than I'd even seen. Sarah had been right, it was a big place.

"Hey!" Megan shouted, pointing. "Skyscrapers!"

"I think those are apartment buildings?" Sarah said, unsure.

"Close enough," Megan said with a shrug. "Think we have time to go see?"

"Probably not," I said. "Your dad said he'd be just a few minutes."

"Yeah, probably not," Sarah said.

Megan scowled, but didn't complain, and we spent the next few minutes running around, taking in the sights. Small stuff, things only kids who'd grown up in the backwoods would care about. We loved it.

Eventually Mr. Begay came back, and Sarah pelted toward him, dragging us in her wake.

"Dad!" she shouted. "Did you get us treats?"

"Natch'rally," he said, voice slightly slurred, handing her a chocolate bar. She tore it open with haste, then deliberately slowed down, nibbling, determined to make it last.

Megan and I caught up, and Mr. Begay smiled at us. He tossed me a bag of chips, and Megan got another chocolate bar. She didn't tear it open like her sister had, though. Her eyes were focused on what was under her dad's other arm.

A twelve pack of beer bottles, already half empty. He stepped over to the truck and dropped the case into the bed. It landed with a clatter of glass-against-glass, the sound echoing far louder than it should have.

I flinched as a drop of water fell from the brim of my helmet, onto my nose.

No, that wasn't right. Juneau was a long, long way in the past. I checked my sword, still filling most of the cave entrance, a chitin and steel barricade.

What had that been? A dream? No, I hadn't been asleep. Memories then. That was fine. I could drift, and let my subconscious stand guard.

My eyes shifted toward the yian garuga. It sat about eighty feet away, crouched down like a bird in a nest of broken branches, wings folded against its sides. It wasn't asleep either. On watch, like I was. Preventing us from escaping.

I shifted, bringing my sword across my body a bit more. I doubted it would try a fireball. It didn't want a fight now, any more than I did. It was saving itself for a better opportunity.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" I asked it.

"Go fuck yourself, Josh!" Gunner shouted back. Angrier than I was.

"It's Hunter right now," I explained, my voice patient. "We're in costume."

"Yeah," Wingtip agreed. "Cape names only."

"Fine, whatever," Gunner said, crossing her arms and slouching back into the threadbare couch. For now, old furniture was all we could afford, and the lair sported outdated, stained, and mismatched décor, to put it kindly.

Wingtip turned to me, delicate lips turned down in a mild frown. "You be nicer too," she told me. "You are a bit of an ass sometimes."

"See?" Gunner asked. "Everyone agrees. So I repeat, calmly and rationally, go fuck yourself Hunter."

I sighed. I wasn't going to win this, I knew. Even though I'd done my part perfectly and it had been her that shot the security guard.

"Fine," I said. "You know they're gonna come after us now, right?"

"Let 'em," Gunner said. "We got the job done. There's one less asshole in the world thanks to us."

"Two less," I muttered.

"Fuck yourself, Josh!" she shouted again.

" _Hunter_ has a point," Wingtip said, pointedly emphasizing my name. "We did a good job, but you should still be a bit more careful. I'm actually a little disappointed in you."

"Sorry Wings," Gunner muttered, hanging her head. "You know it was an accident, right?"

"I do," Wingtip said, leaning over to wrap her arm around Gunner's shoulder. She bonked her head into her sister's, gently, then left it resting there. "I know you."

The almost-hug went on for a few minutes, steadily draining away Gunner's annoyance while mine built up. I wanted to chew her out. Make her realize what a shit-show she'd turned the job into, how much trouble it could cause for Wingtip. I knew very well she wouldn't remotely care about the trouble it caused me, and if I was honest I didn't either.

But I kept my mouth shut for the same reason I always did. Eventually Wingtip spoke again.

"You're going to have to fix this," she told Gunner.

"How?" Gunner asked. "Dude's dead."

"You'll have to talk to Entourage," she said, simply. "Offer to take a pay cut for the job, maybe, in exchange for cleaning up the mess."

"We need that money!" Gunner protested, trying to shrug off Wingtip's arm. The younger girl didn't let her, hanging on tighter. The struggle lasted a few seconds, Gunner's faux-frantic escape attempt ending with them lying together, Wingtip's arms wrapped around her, pinning her to the couch. I just grit my teeth, watching.

"We need the money," Wingtip agreed. "But you messed up. So our plans will have to be pushed back, unless you can get the materials somewhere else, for cheaper."

"It took a frigging month just to find sellers as it is," Gunner whined.

"Tough," Wingtip said, hugging her tighter. "Deal with it." Gunner didn't answer right away. "Deal with it," Wingtip said again, letting go with one arm to ruffle Gunner's hair.

"Oh fine!" Gunner relented, letting her head fall back to the couch. "Damn it. I'll go now. Better to get it over with."

"Good," Wingtip said, letting her go and sitting up.

Gunner go up slowly, reluctantly. She trudged over to the door, picking up her huge gun on the way and slinging it over her shoulder. She slammed the door on the way out, still sulking.

I blew out a breath once she was gone.

"Your sister's a bitch, Wings," I said.

"You're just saying that because you want me to wrestle with you, too," Wingtip said, smiling at me.

I stared at her for a minute, drinking her in. Dark hair, shorter than she'd worn it when we were kids. More stylish, too. Large, dark eyes, a cute nose, and lips that I'd loved to see smile since before I'd known what to do with them.

 _She really is beautiful._

"You're not wrong," I said as her smile started to fade. "Plus, we are alone..."

"Stop," she said, shoving me. She didn't have my strength – or even Gunner's – but she was still stronger than any normal human, and I had to brace myself to stop from falling off the couch. The shove – and her voice – were playful, though. A show of reluctance, not remotely serious.

I slid closer to her, reaching around her shoulder as she had Gunner's, and she leaned into me, resting her hands against my chest. I moved in for a kiss, but she stopped me, bonking her head against mine.

"Ow," I said.

"Oh shush," she said, resting her head in the hollow of my neck. "You're hurt. You need to rest, not... wrestle."

"I can do both," I protested, no more seriously than she'd been. The position of her hands, her head, the feeling of them against me. I wouldn't have moved for anything.

"I hate to see you hurt," she said, more quietly.

"Yeah, well I don't like being hurt," I said. "Wasn't my choice." I was very careful not to mention that, in this instance, I could place the blame firmly on Gunner. But spoken aloud or not, Wingtip still heard it.

"You two fight too much," she said. "I wish you wouldn't."

I moved a hand off her, rubbing at my knee. It was definitely broken, and a deep cut ran down my shin to my ankle. Not Gunner's fault directly, but...

"Yeah," I said. "I guess we do."

"She wouldn't have taken the shot if you hadn't shouted at her," she said.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I guess she wouldn't have."

"It's okay," Wingtip said, snuggling closer. "I know you're trying to make this work. Both of you." she stopped, lowering a hand to my knee, right beside my own. Her touch was gentle, running down my leg, parallel to the cut. Her fingers came away bloody, and she stared at them for a moment, then licked them clean. The sight sent a pulse of something – not quite sexual – running through me. I pulled her closer.

"I love you," I whispered, into her ear.

"Do you?" Shadow Stalker asked.

I blinked, focusing, back in the wet, shallow cave.

"Do you love me?" Shadow Stalker asked again. "Sometimes I can't... You're a fucked up guy, you know that? I can't always figure you out."

I didn't answer right away, looking around. Rune and Rifle were still sleeping behind me, farther into the cave, where it curved away, out of sight from the outside. Shadow Stalker's sleeping bag was empty.

The yian garuga wasn't anywhere in sight.

Not terribly worrying. The wind blowing toward the cave – one of the reasons I'd chosen it – carried its scent to me, so it was still out there somewhere. It didn't matter exactly where.

"Hunter?" Shadow Stalker asked. "Are you okay?"

"I do love you," I told her. "I know you don't like to hear it, but I've been in love. I know what it's like, and that's what I feel for you."

She was quiet. There wasn't anywhere close to enough room in the cave to stand – it was mostly dirt, probably a smaller monster's burrow – so she had to kneel like I was. Even so she had to brush away the roots that dangled from the ceiling as she shuffled toward me. She was in full costume, with her cloak held tight around her against the chill of the night. I couldn't tell anything about what she might have been feeling.

I watched her for a bit as she knelt there, not moving or talking, before turning back to my vigil.

"I think I love you," she said once I wasn't looking at her anymore. "I've never felt this way about another guy, and... yeah. But I also think we were moving really fast, so don't take this the wrong way, but I don't know what I should do right now."

"Right now? Sleep," I said. "Tomorrow? Kill a monster. After that? Who really cares?"

"See, I don't think I'm as cool with that as you are," she said.

I shrugged. "So do whatever you feel," I said. "If you're not cool with something, don't do it. If you want to break up, we can break up. If-"

"No!" she said, leaning in, grabbing my shoulder. The night, the shadows, the darkness of the cave, they rendered her a black silhouette, even with my power-enhanced vision. No details at all. Not even body language to work from. "I don't want that."

"Then what?" I asked. "It's not like anyone's mentioned marriage or kids. If you're talking about sex-"

"I don't want to talk about sex," she said. This time, I got a better handle on her emotions.

"You're conflicted," I said before I could think. "You want it, but you-"

She covered my mouth with her hand. "Fucking shut up," she growled. Embarrassed, this time. "Just don't, okay? For once, just don't."

"Fine by me," I said, once she removed her hand. "But if you want my advice, when you're conflicted, just choose one path or the other and run with it. You'll either be happy or sad afterward, but at least you won't be wasting time worrying about it."

"Even if I choose-" she started, then stopped. She pulled her hand back, and I heard synthetic fabric rustle. Then she put her hand – sans glove – on my forehead.

"Shit, you're burning up," she said. "The poison-"

"Burned itself out hours ago," I said, talking over her. "This is a fever. Infection, or something like that. Whatever. All sorts of crud got into my gut-wound, so it was bound to happen."

"You say that like it's not a big deal," she said.

"It isn't," I told her. "I'll get over it, and even if I still have it tomorrow it's not gonna slow me down. Not enough to matter."

"That's not-" she stopped again, and I would have bet she bit her lip, and that her expression was more than just worried. "I don't know how you can be so fucking casual about it," she said. "You nearly got gutted, you _did_ get poisoned, we're stuck in this shitty forest being hunted by a monster that could kill all of us in the morning, and- For fuck's sake, Hunter, there's more blood on you than in you!"

"I don't know what to say," I said. Something occurred to me. "Actually, maybe I do. Something Chevalier told me. Everyone's got their own perspective, right? Things they believe, because of how they were raised or grew up or whatever. Everyone's different. But for us, for capes, it's worse. We've all got this thing we can do that nobody else can, and it twists our perspective. Shows us the world in a way nobody else can see. So no matter what we do, we can never totally see eye-to-eye."

I turned to her, looked her up and down. "You can turn into a shadow," I said. "I don't know what you see when you do, or what it feels like. I'll never know. Nobody but you ever will. But it goes further than that. You can walk through walls, and that's gotta change how you look at everything. Even simple things. Like... fuck, I dunno, you'll never have to worry about forgetting your keys."

"I kinda do," she said. "Don't share this around, but electricity fucks me up when I use my power. I can't just go through walls, because if I hit a live wire I could end up in the hospital. Or dead."

"That's kinda my point," I said. "You've gotta be more aware of electricity than other people. Can't just take it for granted the way the rest of us can. For me? I'm on my second sleepless night, I'm cut open from dick to nipple, I'm dirty, sick, covered in puke and literal poison, but I don't care about any of it. It hurts like a bitch, I'm itchy all over, I had to use leaves to wipe my ass yesterday, my enhanced senses are making everything ten times worse, and I just. Don't. Care. Because as shitty as it all is, it's temporary. And that's not a position anyone but me could take. Not the exact way I do."

"You don't think that's a problem?" she asked. "Because, fuck, the way you were acting yesterday? It wasn't fucking okay. I'm scared, Hunter. I'll admit it if you won't. I'm scared I could die. I'm scared _you_ could die. But even with that fucking insane monster trying to kill us? You were grinning like it was the best fucking thing that's ever happened to you. You _laughed._ I'm fucked up, but that was _really_ fucked up."

"Everyone's got their weirdness limit, I guess," I mused. "I'm not gonna lie, and I'm not gonna say I'm sorry, but in a lot of ways this _is_ the best thing to ever happen to me. The best and the worst. I've never had a fight like this, and I've never been so close to dying. So I can either embrace it, or I can panic. I'd rather embrace it."

"Yeah," she said. "I can't."

I shrugged. "Different perspectives," I said. "For me, it's a binary. Win or die. If I win, my power wipes away any consequences. Shit, it goes even further. I get to carve up the monster and wear the fucker. Make its strength mine. Like I said, it gives me a fucked-up perspective, but just because it's fucked-up doesn't mean it's wrong."

"I guess I see your point," she said. "But, like, shit. Do you remember when we first got together?" I grinned, and she swatted my shoulder. "Not like that. I talked about how, you know, you and me are comfortable here. In our element."

"And the others aren't," I said. "I remember."

"I guess I'm just realizing that, in the end, you're more in your element here than I am."

"Maybe not more," I said. "Maybe just different."

"Yeah?" she asked. "There's no way I could have laughed yesterday. No chance. That's more than just different. That goes deeper."

"So?" I asked.

She stared at me, then shook her head. "I don't get you, sometimes," she said.

"I'm the simplest guy in the world," I paused, realized what I'd just said. "Don't laugh."

"What makes you think I even could right now?" she asked.

"Sorry," I said. "But really, I'm not a complicated person. I want what I want. I think it's better to live in the moment, and to take what you wanna take. Be true to yourself, even if that means being a psycho, a murderer, or just a fucked-up guy that can laugh while his guts are hanging out."

"They're not, right?" she asked. "Your guts?"

"They're not," I confirmed. "Figure of speech."

Her outline sagged slightly. Relief, I thought. Hoped.

"So what happens when everything goes to shit?" she asked. "Because living your life like that? It's gonna happen."

"Well, I mean, don't do stupid shit, obviously," I said. "Like, if I want a doughnut, I don't just break through the glass and grab it. I buy it. And if I don't have the cash right then, whatever, I get one later. Any philosophy can be taken to an absurd extreme, you know? So just, I dunno, use common sense."

She shook her head – I thought, maybe. "It isn't always that easy," she said.

"So make it that easy," I said. "I get that you're working up to something, so just say it. Get it out there and let whatever's gonna happen, happen."

"You know what? Fine," she said. "I want you. I thought I was falling in love with you. But after... everything, I'm not sure anymore. I thought you were a freak who loved to fight and loved to, well, you know. But I never saw you smile like you did yesterday when you were with me. So I'm wondering if it's only the fighting you love, and everything else is just killing time."

As soon as she said 'love', I grinned. I couldn't help it, and even what came after wasn't enough to dampen how I felt.

"If you're jealous of the yian garuga, maybe try making the comparison again once we're in bed together," I said.

"I'm being serious," she hissed, leaning forward. Angry, for sure.

"Me too," I told her. "I said it, right, that I've never had a fight like this? Trust me, Stalker. Sophia. I love you. But I love fighting too, and so far nothing we've done together has been this intense. But I promise you, when it is, you'll see just how into it I can get."

She drew back. "You never said my name before."

"I know," I said. "I want you to know how serious I am about this. About you."

She retreated further. "You don't get it," she said, accusing. "I don't even know if I want things to be like that. This kind of intense? Thinking about it, about you being like you were yesterday, with me? It's fucking scary, Hunter. I'm not like you. I can't choose to either love it or hate it. My power doesn't wipe away any problems or mistakes."

"I'm me," I said. "Can't be anyone else. Can't just go half way, either. I can't decide this for you, and I can't comfort you. I'm me. Take it or leave it."

She growled, then punched me. With the darkness I didn't even see her move. One moment her silhouette was there, and then I was leaning up against the dirt wall, tasting blood.

Blood, and a moment later, lipstick.

She pressed herself against me hard, locked her mouth to mine, just for a moment. Then she drew back and punched me again.

"I'm getting some mixed signals, I think," I said, slurring the words slightly. I flexed my jaw, checking for damage, then turned my head and spit a mouthful of blood outside the cave.

Shadow Stalker wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then put her mask back on. "Maybe you just don't get my perspective," she said. "I thought I was being pretty clear."

"Har har," I said. "Fair enough. But can you at least clarify it, for the slower people in the class?"

"No," she said. "I don't think I will. Figure it out yourself." She withdrew again, crawling back toward Rifle and Rune. "Next move's yours, Hunter. Make sure it's the right one."

She shimmied into her sleeping bag, then rolled over, putting her back to me.

I grinned, almost against my will.

At least life wasn't boring.


	25. Elegy for a Lone Wolf

**Chapter Twenty Five: Elegy for a Lone Wolf**

"I think we should split up."

Rifle stared at me for a moment.

"Say that again," he said.

"I think we should split up," I said. "You and Rune head back to the camp. Me and Shadow Stalker fight the monster."

"Seriously?" Shadow Stalker asked.

I paused, looking around, checking for the yian garuga. It was nowhere in sight, and at the moment I didn't have its scent. The forest was deeper here, as we finally approached the destroyed observation post.

"Seriously," I confirmed, turning back to her.

"Why?" Rune asked.

"Honestly? Because neither you or Rifle can help much at this point."

Rifle frowned. It was different than his usual worried or thoughtful expression. Not just angry, either. He didn't argue, though.

"I'm not trying to be a dick, here," I said. "I know I've said that before when I totally was, but this time I mean it. You two are vulnerable, and neither of you has the firepower to matter."

"We've got rockets," Rune protested. "And the C4."

"You haven't hit it once with any of that," I said. "Yeah, you got it with the tree, and yeah, Rifle shot it a few times. But so far like ninety-nine percent of the damage to it has been either me or Shadow Stalker." I looked at Rifle, met his eyes. "We've got some problems, and we should talk them out once this is done. But for now, putting all that aside, I think you two should back off."

He looked to Shadow Stalker, and she shrugged helplessly. "Don't look at me," she said. "First I've heard of this shit."

He closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. "Okay," he said. "Assume we leave. Do you have a plan? Yesterday you said that we needed the ranged advantage to fight it in the open."

"I said we needed to counter its advantages," I said. "You leaving accomplishes that. It takes the two soft targets out of the equation. And with Shadow Stalker we've still got the ranged advantage. Enough of one, anyway."

"That's not a plan," he said. "You're just stating what the problems are."

 _Pot calling the kettle black, right there_ , I thought. "The plan's the same as it was before," I said. "We get to an open field, draw it in, and kill it. You being there or not doesn't manifestly alter that."

"What if it goes after us, rather than you?" Rune asked.

"It won't," I said. "It spent most of last night staring me down. It wants me dead."

"And if it decides to take on the 'soft targets' first before coming for you?" Rifle asked.

"I doubt it will," I said. "If it does, you two are kinda screwed, I guess. But all plans are gonna have some risk to them. I think this one is the least risky. At least once you get back to camp you'll have more to work with to defend yourself, if it kills me."

Rune grimaced, and Rifle looked away.

"It's a possibility," I said. "You guys might not like it, but I could die here. If anything it's more of a reason for you to head back. If you're not prepared to die, this isn't a fight you should be part of."

"That's such bullshit," Rifle said.

"Look, it comes down to this," I said. "We weren't ready to take it on. We brought a ton of shit, left most of it behind to go scouting, and we got caught with our pants down. So now we're stuck. We're not gonna escape until it's dead. If things had been different you two could have done a lot. Been a big help. But that's not the situation we're in. And yeah, maybe part of that's my fault, for letting personal shit interfere with the mission. Maybe without all this drama we'd have been smarter about things. Whatever. Didn't happen that way. We are where we are, and anything else is gonna have to come _after_ we survive the next few hours."

Rifle listened to my almost-rant stony-faced, then turned away, looking at the surrounding forest. Trees grew thick around us, and the ground was uneven, a mix of rich earth and large stones that had been lifted up by the trees' roots.

"I'll point out that neither Rune nor myself can navigate in this kind of terrain," Rifle said. The way he said it, voice tight, he clearly expected me to point out that it was just one more thing thing they couldn't do. No offense, no defense, and now no capability to even escape on their own.

I didn't. Instead I walked over to a large, flat-topped rock, easily eight feet across, jutting out of the ground. I snapped off the roots that were tangled around it, then heaved it up out of the earth and let it fall to the ground with a rumbling thud.

"Fly on that," I said, pointing to it. "Wait until we engage, then get above the treetops and head straight for the camp."

"It's a risk," Rifle said.

"Everything's a risk," I pointed out.

He looked to Rune, then Shadow Stalker, then back to me. Neither of them said anything, though Rune was still frowning and Shadow Stalker's mask was as blank as always.

"I'm willing to hear alternate suggestions," I said. "Not like I'm trying to be the boss or anything. I just think this is the best shot we have."

Rifle was quiet, examining the rock, chewing his lip in thought.

"I'm serious," I said. "Any plan you've got, I'll be happy to go along with it. Just say the word."

"Shut up," Rifle said, his voice level. "Go."

I nodded, then turned without another word and started clambering over the rocks, in the direction of the observation post.

Shadow Stalker joined me, leaping easily from rock, to root, to branch, phasing smoothly into shadow and back. In the gloom of the forest it almost looked like she was teleporting.

We reached the top of the rock pile fairly quickly, then moved up a ridge, a raised section of ground created by the rising roots of an especially enormous tree, and started descending, leaving Rifle and Rune behind, out of sight.

Shadow Stalker landed on a section of root and crouched down, facing me as I scrambled over it more slowly.

"You really think this is the best plan?" she asked.

"It's probably not," I admitted. "But it's the least risky one I can think of. Maybe someone smarter could do better."

"It's different than what you said yesterday," she pointed out.

"Which is different from what I had in mind the day before that," I said. "Shit's happening fast. I'm just trying to adapt."

"Is that really all?" she asked, sliding down the root and pacing me, staying in her solid form.

I pulled myself up onto a rock, then jumped for another, avoiding the chasm between them, full of spider webs and dead bugs.

"I thought about what you said," I admitted. "Made me realize that, you know, maybe I'm hyping myself up too much. We really only have one chance here. Gotta make the most of it."

"Okay," she said, shifting into her shadow state and leaping ahead, fading from sight.

 _Fuck_ , I thought. Had that been a test or something? Had I failed? Or was that 'okay' a sign that I'd passed?

I pushed it out of my mind and focused on moving through the forest, keeping an eye, ear, and nostril open for signs of the yian garuga. I'd sighted it a few times today already, so I knew it was still around, and I'd made it a point to move through the toughest, densest terrain possible. Places where it couldn't go. It had made for a winding route, and even though we'd started before dawn the sun was already well up.

It couldn't last, though. The forest steadily thinned out toward the bluff we'd made camp at, two nights ago now. It was part of why I'd originally decided to take the fight in the open. Now it was more a matter of moving fast and getting to the ravaged post before the wyvern caught up. That speed, I hoped, would induce it to chase us rather than going after Rifle and Rune, holed up where it couldn't get at them.

Speed, too, was a reason Rifle and Rune couldn't come.

I hurled myself over a ten-foot gap and landed in a roll, one hand on my sword's hilt to make sure it stayed on my back, then sprang up and jogged forward. Despite the weight of my gear, the wound in my stomach – plus enough rations for five people – and days without sleep, my steps were light and easy. I kept up a pace that a marathon runner would have envied, in terrain that would have made a free runner blanch. With the others, even with Rune's power, it would have taken five times as long. More.

Even at speed, navigating was easy. The position of the sun, my own mental map of the forest, and my enhanced senses meant I had no trouble maintaining a straight-line path to our destination.

Despite that, and despite the fact that Shadow Stalker's own speed put me to shame, the post was still a good ways away, and the yian garuga was on our trail.

It started as the beating of heavy wings, followed by the cracking and breaking of wood, and a pulsing shriek that – if it had been closer – would have sent me to my knees.

I dodged to the side, rolling behind a tree just ahead of a chemical fireball that exploded where I'd been standing, burning away the undergrowth and scorching the earth black. My hand went to my sword, and I readied myself for a counterattack, but it wasn't necessary. The yian garuga swooped away as quickly as it had arrived, flapping its wings, gaining height and curving around the towering trees.

"Okay," I said. "If that's the way you wanna play it."

It wasn't the first time I'd run from this monster, and if anything that probably played into my plan. I'd fled from it before, and it had chased, so it was natural to do it again, even if Rifle and Rune weren't present.

I made use of that, deliberately taking a route that occasionally left me in the open, and it followed. It struck, and I dodged, moving from tree to tree, scrambling through dense thickets, moving up small cliffs or down slopes. Places where it couldn't follow on foot, and moving through the air required it to take longer, looping routes around clusters of trees. Then out into the open again, drawing it in.

It wasn't all one-sided, though, with me leading it by the nose. It was too smart for that.

Another fireball rushed toward me, heralded by pounding wingbeats, and I dodged, grabbing the trunk of a smaller tree and swinging around it, straight into the yian garuga's diving charge. I kicked off the tree, hitting the ground hard, but it wasn't quite enough. The beak missed me – barely – but the wing didn't.

Being smacked by a bird's wings wouldn't have been a big deal, even one as huge as the yian garuga. But these weren't feathered wings, with small, delicate bones. They were huge, claw-tipped and armor-plated, with the membrane itself being heavily scaled. In a normal, natural animal, they would have never provided enough lift to compensate for their own weight, let alone the carapace-clad body or the enormous hammer of a beak.

The strike caught me in the midriff, driving the breath out of me. Worse, I was lifted up, carried along as the monster turned its gliding dive into an upward swoop, shedding momentum but gaining altitude. No space to use my sword. All I could think to do was to draw my knife and do as much damage as I could.

Shadow Stalker saved me the necessity. A bright light erupted in front of the monster, rendering the forest in a moment of stark black and white. A flash bomb. Even facing away, it dazzled me. Its effect on the yian garuga was far greater. The monster squawked, spasming, its legs kicking, sending it immediately off course. In a forest as dense as the one we were in, the consequences of that were immediate.

It plowed into a tree hard enough that the wyvern's neck folded up almost like an accordion. It would have been funny if I'd had time to see it for more than a fraction of a second. But though the monster hit the tree, its momentum turning to stunning force, I didn't, and my own course continued unchanged.

I arced through the air, spinning slowly, and hit another tree, ricocheting off, falling the fifty or sixty feet to the forest floor. I landed hard, tumbling and rolling through the dirt, then slammed to a stop against a cluster of rocks. Sharp rocks.

I staggered upright, shaking my head to clear the dizziness. The monster was on the ground now, too, and it didn't seem as affected as I was. Already recovered from the bomb and the fall, it was upright, angry, and coming straight for me.

Again, Shadow Stalker saved me. A swarm of pellets appeared out of nowhere, stinging the monster, drawing blood and sending it off course again. It curved its headlong charge, moving away from the attack and taking to the air again.

"You alright?!" Shadow Stalker called out, appearing partway up a tree, balanced on one of the branches.

"Yeah!" I shouted back. "Let's go!"

I was more careful after that, sticking to places where the trees grew closer together, appearing in the open less often, giving it fewer options for surprise tactics. There wasn't a need to bait it anymore, anyway. It was clearly intent on bringing us to ground, finishing us off. Even so, the rest of the run was tense, and more than tense, any hint of wingbeats sending my heart into my throat, forcing me to dive, dodge, roll, or sprint away.

Eventually the ground rose up, a rocky hillside, and I knew we'd arrived. When we'd left the destroyed outpost the day before, we'd gone on a wide, well-traveled path. This time, returning, we burst out of the treeline well above it, where it butted up against the hill, forcing me to half-run, half-stumble down the slope, eyes on the sky.

The yian garuga didn't make me wait long. It flew over the trees on the other side of the rubble-filled clearing, flaring its wings to slow its descent, and came in for a landing in the middle of the compound. It clawed at the ground, pacing a few steps and lashing what was left of its tail against the ground. Then it lowered its head, letting out a long, rattling croak. The meaning was obvious. A challenge.

It knew as well as I did that this was the final showdown. Neither of us would accept anything else.

"What's the play?" Shadow Stalker asked, appearing beside me as I reached the bottom of the hill.

I didn't answer for a moment, walking carefully through the rubble, eyes on the monster. It matched my movements, stalking sideways with careful, birdlike steps, head bobbing, its single eye flicking between me and Shadow Stalker.

"Hit it until it dies," I said. "Don't get hit."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" she asked. Her voice was light, but there was tension in it. Her movements, though, were fluid. Loose, ready to spring in any direction.

I wanted to say more, to reassure her or get her pumped for the fight, but I couldn't think of anything. Instead, I broke into a run.

The ground was unstable. Covered in ash, charred wood, and soot-coated stones. It slid under my feet, stained my pants black, and threatened to see me fall with every step. None of that stopped me from charging straight at the yian garuga any more than it stopped the monster from rushing for me, beak opening in a furious, ringing roar, liquid fire spattering onto the already scorched ground.

Another flash bomb exploded between us, and I barely had time to shut my eyes against the glare. I slipped, caught myself, and continued my rush. The monster didn't. It recoiled from the light, digging its claws into the ground to halt itself and squeezing its eye shut.

I took advantage of its temporary blindness, bringing my sword crashing down on its beak. It met with a sound like cracking bone, and the yian garuga's head hit the ground hard enough to bounce.

It recovered fast – too fast – swinging its head up at me, pushing my sword against my body and sending me flying. I tumbled, slid, and came up covered in ash, speckled black and gray.

Once again Shadow Stalker covered me, firing in at it, the steady thump-thump of her weapon sending piercing darts through the wing membranes, drawing it to charge her as it had me.

She was more visible in the open than she had been in the forest, even in her shadow state. The sun was high, and the monster tracked her as she turned wispy and floated away, adjusting its rush, its claws giving it purchase that neither of us had. She abandoned her power, landing to roll behind a half-tumbled wall, using it for cover.

I felt a momentary stab of fear. The yian garuga's beak would hit that wall like a battering ram, smash right through it.

She was smarter than that, though. As the wyvern approached, she leapt _through_ the wall in shadow form, sliding between the churning claws, not-gun held upward, already firing.

The darts slammed into the monster's stomach, and if it wasn't as soft as the kut-ku's had been, it was still vulnerable. It cried out and stumbled.

But it had more on the kut-ku than just a thicker shell. It was tough, mentally, if such a term applied to a monster. It didn't fall. Even as blood ran down its legs it checked its rush with a clawed foot against the wall, then pushed off. A flapping jump spun it around, its beak held high, poised to peck at Shadow Stalker, to grind her into the dirt.

This time, I saved her. I whipped my sword off my back and slammed it into the ground, point down, hilt high, the blade across my body, interposing myself between the girl and the monster.

The hit was stunning, as expected. Even with my feet planted I slid back, sword pressed against my body. If Shadow Stalker hadn't sprung to her feet I'd have probably tripped over her.

Despite the close call, she didn't retreat. She could have, easily. It would have been smart, in a lot of ways. Do to the monster what it had done to us. Break contact, hide, then attack from ambush. But she didn't, and what she _did_ do was a hundred times sexier.

She jumped up, planted a foot on my shoulder, and jumped again, using me as a stepping stone to gain height, leveling her weapon right in the monster's face and unleashing.

"Hell yes!" I shouted over the sound of not-gunfire and the spang and crack of darts hitting shell.

The force of recoil in midair pushed her backward, and she rolled with it, landing behind me again. I went sideways, spinning, leveling a wide cut at the yian garuga's leg, sending it hopping to the side, where Shadow Stalker met it with a fresh assault of her own.

We worked together, playing off each other. It wasn't like it was with Wingtip. Shadow Stalker didn't have her reflexes or her timing. She couldn't ride the razor's edge like Wings could, letting life or death hang by a half-inch dodge. She was faster, though, moving in streaking lines, black against the blackened backdrop, flickering in and out of shadow, and the yian garuga couldn't keep up.

More, she had a viciousness that Wingtip had never had. A joy in the fight, taking pleasure in inflicting pain, right on the border of sadism. Past it. I didn't care. It spurred me on, driving me forward, and she came to meet me as we danced together, gouging out any soft spot, tearing into any weakness. Moving together, twining into each other, thinking the same thoughts.

And the yian garuga answered. It moved with us, a jagged counterpoint, our focus, our target, and our would-be killer. The center of the dance.

I slammed my sword down, cracking its shell. It rent me with its claws, raking a line down my face and cracking my collarbone. I took its knee, and it took my arm, mangling it to near uselessness. We traded blows, traded blood, and Shadow Stalker was always there. The swift one, the first into any gaps. Always with the right ammo, doing the greatest harm. Digging deep into wounds, pricking organs, clawing at bones, shredding scales.

There was fire, bursting around us, on us. It scalded me, took my eye, made me match the monster. Dragged a scream from Shadow Stalker, sent her rolling through the soot, cloak burned away, arm blistered red before it was coated in ash.

I roared my challenge, and the answer stunned me, burst my eardrum, took away half the world's sound. Fire took me too, threw me away burning.

The tempo increased. Pain fell away. Only the fight mattered, and the monster was winning. Every hit, it ignored. No injury slowed it. Every cruelty fueled it, drove it harder. Its eye _burned_ , leaving a crimson trail as it darted between us, its beak a hammer and its claws its swords, pounding the air to a storm with its wings. Ash and soot flew, spiraling into the sky.

I'd never felt anything like it. It was everything I'd hoped it would be. Entirely worth the white lies and half-truths I'd used to arrange it. It brought us – all three of us – together. Showed us who we were, and took us to new heights.

And still, the monster was winning.

Only one fact left us alive, gave us a chance. The tail. If I hadn't taken it we'd have been dead a dozen times. But without it, its arsenal was incomplete, and it hadn't adapted. A tail flip whiffed completely, met by my sword on the way down, slashing the claws off a wing. A horizontal spin missed Shadow Stalker by inches, where its poisonous club would have gored her, saw her die in burning, stomach-clenched agony.

We adjusted, pressuring the loss, attacking the rear-quarters that now lacked a weapon. A wide gap in its offense, if not its defense, growing even wider as we moved into it.

It trampled in circles, leapt, flew, spewed fire, clawed and gored, shouted its terrible ringing scream. It was faster, stronger, and tougher than we were. A distance that was impossible to close or entirely compensate for. Even weakened, stripped of a weapon, it was winning.

I flew through the air, victim of a beak-strike that saw three ribs collapse. Getting up was hard. Impossible, before the followup reached me. A roll, away from the rush. Another, out of the path of a fireball. A third, failed. It landed on me, talons shredding my pants, its mammoth weight snapping the bones in my calf.

It wasn't just winning. We were losing.

A desperate swing of my sword deflected the beak, razor edge slashing at the already cracked hammer, slicing into the flesh beneath, driving it back, giving me time to get up. No protection that time. No saving.

Shadow Stalker was the weak link. The swiftest of us. The easiest to break. Slower now, though still dazzling. Burned, aching, tired. Even slower, soon.

I couldn't play this like I did with Wings. We weren't as balanced. We weren't inexhaustible. The peaks were sharper, valleys deeper. Couldn't fight for hours, days. Couldn't shrug off wounds. Jagged, rather than smooth, where we didn't quite meet. Cutting edges that hurt us as well as the target. We didn't complete each other. Too alike.

That was fine. A different dance, to spice things up.

I took center-stage. No hit and run, now, even if I'd wanted to. Broken leg, broken knee. Still functional, but not strong. Couldn't run, couldn't brace. Had to attack quicker. Circle into upswing, combo. Couldn't walk. Roll to move. Dodge the feet, strike the legs. Knock it down. Bring it low. Do what we hadn't, before. Bring it in range. Batter the head, keep it down. Take the fire, take the claws, let them come. I had enough blood left.

Through bleary eyes I saw Shadow Stalker deliver the killing blow. A shadow, sinking half-into its back, a shudder of pain passing through her. She stuck the bowgun – _good name, that –_ into it, through the armor, dragging it shadow-form through the body, firing, filling its guts, its lungs, its heart, with ammo.

Tearing it up, inside out.

It didn't go easy. It had its claws in me, and it clenched them tight. It bit my blade, striving to break it. The crab-claw sword held. My armor didn't. I choked, held on, struggled. Stood.

A last flood of flame, directionless, the eye already gone dark and cold, and it was done.

I let go of my sword and took a talon in both hands, pried it out of me. Then the next, and the next. I ignored the pain. There wasn't much bleeding. Not enough blood left to lose. My heart beat a mile a minute, pushing what I had left through desperately constricted arteries, working too hard with too little.

I'd live. I wasn't dead, so I wasn't going to die.

Shadow Stalker staggered out of the monster, reforming, her legs shaking, weak. She fell, and I caught her. She tensed, groaned as my hand made contact with her blistered arm.

I just stared at her. Her cloak was ragged, half of it burned away, the other half draping her unburned side. Her hood was down, and her hair had come undone, drifting around her head and shoulders, falling across her mask. She was panting, covered in soot, the grit stuck to her by the sweat that soaked her skintight suit, sticking it even closer to her body, following every curve. I could have stared for hours, eyes following the smooth, tight lines of her body.

I pulled my helmet off, dropped it to the ground. She followed suit, letting her mask fall into the blood and ash. Even beaded in sweat, with a bloody nose, deep shadows under her eyes, and gulping desperately for air, she was stunning, features set in a megawatt glare.

I kissed her. She kissed me back, and it wasn't gentle. It was savage, fueled by pain, and violence, and sheer, ecstatic survival.

"That's my answer," I growled at her. "Take it or leave it. Yes or no."

"Yes," she snarled back at me.

The next kiss made the first look tame.


	26. The Burning Dunes

**Chapter Twenty Six: The Burning Dunes**

"Are you two about done?"

I untangled my hand from Shadow Stalker's hair, using it to push her face away from mine, earning me a low growl.

"Five more minutes!" I shouted to the voice outside the tent-flap, more than a little breathless.

With my lips removed as a target, Shadow Stalker lowered her head, nibbling – no, biting – at my earlobe.

I gasped, the action and the feel of her breath against me making me shudder and sending an almost ringing tingle through my head.

"Never been on the receiving end of that before," I said, my voice shaking.

I winced, even before she bit down hard enough to draw blood. Without my power I probably would have lost a sliver of flesh.

"Don't talk about _her_ ," Shadow Stalker snarled, my ear still crushed between her teeth.

"Fine! Ow!" I said, tensing up, fighting the urge to push her away. I'd heal, of course, but still. It hurt.

She let go, but didn't raise her head, at least not right away. She kept it there, her cheek against mine, as she licked away the blood. I twitched with every stroke of her tongue, with the way her soft, smooth skin pressed against my face. When she finally stopped, pushing herself up on an elbow to look me in the eyes, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from begging her to keep going.

"Holy shit," I breathed, reaching up to brush away some of her hair that had fallen across my face.

She smiled, lips pressed together. We were close, our noses almost touching, and I could see a hint of red at the corner of her mouth, deeper than her lipstick. Her eyes were half-lidded, almost vague as they roamed over my face. Barely focused. Even so, I couldn't see any of the pain that had haunted them over the last week.

I reversed my hand, trailing my fingertips down her cheek, where it had been pressed to mine, slowly, savoring the feel of her skin. She closed her eyes and let out a barely audible hum. A contented sound. When my fingers got to her lips, I brushed them sideways, across her mouth, cleaning away the blood.

"You are something else," I said.

"Good," she said, stretching the word out into a rumbling purr that did some very interesting things to me. I sucked in a deep breath, and she chuckled, shifting around on top of me, resettling herself.

I cursed inwardly, equally grateful and furious at my blood loss, and what it currently meant. The awareness that we lay chest to chest, even with layers of bandages between us, the way her legs slid over mine, the feel of my knee between her thighs...

Even without skin-to-skin contact, it was a feeling that went deeper than just touch. Something more than her body against mine. It was warmth. Connection. It reached up through me, electric, spreading all the way to the top of my head and almost driving everything else out.

Almost.

I intercepted her as she moved in for another kiss, two fingers pressed to her barely parted lips. She pursed them, kissing my fingers, then leaned in, kissing them again, nearer the tips. I drew them back before she could start to suck on them. Or, more likely knowing her, bite them.

"Stop," I said.

"You don't really want that," she whispered. She went in for another kiss, and I didn't resist. The next few minutes passed in whirl of beating hearts and shared breath.

"Stop." I said again, eventually.

"No," she growled, nipping at my lip.

 _She really likes that..._

"Shtop," I slurred, my bottom lip still caught between her teeth.

That time, she did. She pushed herself up off me, enough to frown down at me.

"Why?" she asked. In other circumstances I probably wouldn't have noticed, but as close as we were I could hear a hint of worry in her voice, see it in the way her brow furrowed.

"Relax," I said. "Nothing's wrong. But we should probably actually talk at some point. Plus, you know, the longer we go on, the more uncomfortable the others are gonna get."

Her frown morphed into a lopsided smile. "Right, sure," she said. "You'd be a lot more convincing if you let go of my butt, you know."

"Ah," I said, rapidly reshuffling my impression from 'worry' to 'confusion'. "Yeah, sorry. Mixed signals, I'm sure."

She leaned down again, lacing her fingers into my hair, touching her forehead to mine.

"You're still doing it," she purred.

I groaned. It took real, physical effort to stop kneading her firm, toned-

"Okay!" I said, taking a quick breath, snatching my hand away and forcing myself to think about other things. It took, if anything, even more effort. "Right, so. Talking. Talking about stuff."

"Do you really want to talk?" she asked. She kissed me, light and teasing. "Because I don't."

"God no," I growled. She growled in response, grinding into me, pulling my hair, wrenching my head up. She kissed me again, hard, her tongue forcing my mouth open, dueling with mine.

It was another few minutes before I could think again.

"I never thought," I gasped, "Never in a million years thought I'd be the one saying we should cool it."

"It's your own fault," she said, a little breathless herself. Despite that, her voice was lazy and more that a bit smug. She paused, smiling as she ran a finger across my face. She bopped my nose, then ran it over my lips, almost doodling. "I went without you for days, you know. I had no idea how hard it'd be." She pressed down suddenly, painfully mashing my lips against my teeth. "Don't say it. Don't bring up your... experience. Alright?"

"Never even crossed my mind," I said, once she took her finger away. "I do learn, believe it or not. It just takes a while."

"Good," she said, absently, almost to herself. "Good. So... talking. I guess we should. I guess I've got some stuff to say, too."

My breath caught for a second. The aggression of the last half hour, the near-ferocity, it reminded me of Wingtip all of a sudden. Of our last, climactic night together.

"We're good, right?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said, frowning again. "We're... together. I don't know if I can call it good."

"That's fair," I said, sagging in relief. "Together's fine. Together's great. I'll take together."

"Yeah, me too," she said. "I've never been with anyone, before. You know that. I told you. I just... never really considered what it'd mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," I said.

Her expression didn't change as she ground her thumb into my throat. I gagged, swung at her, but she just went shadow for a moment. Up close, unmasked, I saw details I hadn't before. Her bones were visible, barely, transparent shadows under shadowy skin, twisted and distorted, wavering and hazy. Her eyes were bright without the mask, reflecting more light than existed in the tent. Then she was normal again, eyes still bright in her dusky face. Still fierce, but human.

"I didn't say anything about her," I half-choked.

"You made me think about her," Shadow Stalker said. She frowned again, almost pensive. "Which, I mean, case in fucking point right there. I never thought I'd be the jealous type. Not like this, at least. But here we are."

"We really need a better method of conflict resolution," I told her.

"I could stand to keep the current one," she said, rubbing her finger in a circle on my throat, around and around the spot she'd choked me. "But I guess you're right. I guess that's something else I never thought about. Getting in fights. Having arguments. I mean, if anyone else pissed me off, I'd just beat the shit out of them." Her head dropped down, hair falling across her eyes. "Didn't help much with you, though."

"Didn't hurt, either," I said. "I mean, right time, right place, a good fist fight might be just the thing. Don't dismiss it out of hand."

Her lips quirked into a momentary smile. "You are just the right kind of fucked up, you know that?"

"Right back at ya," I said, smiling up at her.

She smiled back for a moment, before turning pensive again. "You know the worst part?" she asked. "I was thinking about it, and I just can't see finding another guy like you."

"You were trying to replace me?" I asked. "Shit, Stalker. That sucks."

"Don't be a baby," she said. "I said I couldn't see it happening, didn't I?"

"Doesn't make it better," I muttered.

"Don't sulk," she said, pinching my cheek. I batted her hand away. "I really, really never met anyone else like you. Most guys are pathetic. Normal or cape, doesn't matter. When it comes down to it, they're weak."

"Everyone's weak, sometimes," I said. "Not like either of us really covered ourselves with glory the last week or so."

"Yeah, but we picked ourselves up," she said. "Even if we hadn't got back together, we'd have survived. Figured something out. That's the real difference between weak and strong. Whether you pick yourself up and get better, or just wallow in your own shit."

"Can't really argue there," I said. "I mean, fuck, that's basically what my power does. I always heal, always come back with something new."

"Exactly," she said. "But it's more than just that. More than just a power thing. It's attitude. I've got it, and you've got it."

"You've got an attitude, alright," I said.

She smiled and moved her hand to my throat again, but this time she just brushed it across, gently. "That's what I'm saying," she said. "Most guys, after what I did to you? After I beat you up back at base? They'd have been gone. Hell, they'd have been out the door before the fight even finished. When shit goes to hell, they're the kind that gets weaker. But you came back to me. You came back _for_ me. Honestly, I wouldn't have cared if you'd come back for revenge, even. I'd have welcomed it, I think."

"And you say I'm fucked up," I muttered with a smile.

She leaned down for a moment, brushed a kiss across my lips, just barely touching.

"You came back," she repeated. "What that tells me? We'll have our ups and downs, yeah. We'll fight. I'll hurt you, and you'll hurt me-"

"I don't want to hurt you," I broke in.

"Too late," she said. "Now shut up. Let me finish."

I made a zipping motion across my mouth.

"We'll hurt each other," she said. "But in the end? It'll just make us stronger. Each of us, and both of us together. What we've got? It's gonna survive. It's long-term, and it's real."

I felt a giddy smile spread across my face. "You know, most people would call you crazy for saying that, given that we've only been together for, what? A month? A bit less?"

She shrugged, still pressed against me, and once again I cursed and thanked my blood loss. This wasn't the time to get hard. "Most people are stupid," she said.

"Strong point," I said, then sighed regretfully. "Now comes the hard part, though. We really should talk to the others."

She scowled, though I had to admit it was a charming scowl. "Fuck. Probably," she said.

I sat up, and she slid backward, rolling off me and kneeling in the middle of the tent. She stretched, arching her back and bringing her elbows up, hands behind her head. The best she could do in the limited space we had.

She looked around for a second, eyes roving across the rumpled sleeping bags and scattered medical supplies. Her gaze fell on my helmet, pushed off to the side along with the rest of our gear some time during the festivities.

She reached down and picked it up, turning it over in her hands, eying me. "This... is it gonna be a problem?"

I shrugged. "If you'd asked me twenty minutes ago, I'd have said yes. Now... whatever. Can't bring myself to care. But it's just you, alright? You're the exception. For everyone else, the mask stays on."

"Not gonna lie," she said, smiling as she handed me my helmet. "I was starting to think you were hiding some real scars, or seriously bad zits, or something."

"And now?" I asked, putting the helmet on and twisting it around so it sat properly. I blinked a few times, looking around without turning my head, checking that the eye holes were in the right place. Well, eye hole now, singular, given that the yian garuga had burned out my other one. I scowled, poking at the bandage that covered the empty socket. It was bulky, and my helmet didn't sit right over it. I peeled it off and tossed it aside, then settled my helmet on my head again.

Shadow Stalker didn't comment, even after seeing the damage. She just shrugged, much as I had. "Now? A bit worse than five seconds ago. But really..." she said. Her smile grew indulgent for a second, eyes going a bit distant. "I'd say you're hot, but you're my boyfriend, so I think I'd say that anyway. Even if you weren't." She paused. "Unless you were really ugly, maybe. That could have been a problem. Overall, honestly a little underwhelming after all the buildup. Also? Not loving the buzz-cut."

"I'll let it grow out a bit," I said.

"Cool," she said, searching around for her own mask. "So, you ever gonna tell me what's with you and the mask thing?"

"Eventually," I said. "Probably."

"Fair enough, I guess."

She found her mask and slid it on, buckling the strap behind her head, then gathering up the hair that had come loose, fixing her ponytail. It was a pretty simple scene, watching her fix her hair, but I caught myself lingering on it, staring. The way she knelt there, legs folded underneath her, head bent forward, arms raised. It highlighted the curves of her body, especially her neck. I noted how smooth her skin was, how elegantly she moved, sure and graceful, even with her chest and arm bandaged.

I almost sighed in disappointment when she finished, giving her hair a little toss so it fell just right, before hunting down the rest of her costume.

The tent had clearly been set up as a makeshift sick tent before becoming something a bit more... intimate, and I could see the marks of hasty but organized first aid. Various rolls of bandages, with those little metal clips that held them together, half-empty tubes of cream, dirty – and bloody – towels spilling out of a bucket we'd tipped over at some point, and more. I especially noted the empty syringes and suture kit. I couldn't really tell underneath the layers of bandages that covered my worst injuries – mostly on my chest where the yian garuga had sunk its talons into me – but I didn't feel the loose, empty sensation I associated with having parts of me gaping open, so I assumed someone had sewn me up. Rifle, probably, given the rather impressive cleanliness within the tent. At least before Shadow Stalker and I had got to it.

Eventually I had gathered up my gear – minus my sword – and found myself staring at it. I couldn't remember much between the yian garuga's death and waking up with Shadow Stalker on top of me, but clearly at some point in that time I hadn't just repaired it, I'd either upgraded it or replaced it, because what I was looking at clearly wasn't what I'd been wearing the day before.

It resembled, for the most part, the defunct, destroyed kut-ku armor, but purple and green rather than red and yellow. And more spiky. It had a more enclosed helm, too, with plates of armor rather than the flexible drape of scaly hide my old helmet had. Plus wing-like spikes on the sides. No idea what I'd been thinking there. No tassel, though. The pants, too, were heavier this time. Armored the same as the chest, shoulders, and arms.

I flexed my broken leg, felt the bones in my knee grate against each other. No question why I'd strengthened the leg armor. I brushed a hand across my burned face, shivered as I felt the charred, empty socket. No question why the helmet was heavier, either.

Shadow Stalker watched me gear up, then laid a hand on my shoulder. "Guess we should bite the bullet," she said.

I nodded.

We left the tent, unzipping it and crawling out, then standing up. Shadow Stalker stayed close, her hand reaching for mine. I took it, and our fingers twined together. Her thumb rubbed against my palm for a moment, and I gave her a quick squeeze.

The camp was the same as it had been when we left, for the most part. Two tents, a campfire with some chairs around it, and a bunch of crates of supplies. Some of the crates were open, with their contents spread around. Mostly the ones that had, if I was remembering right, food and medical supplies in them. That made sense. There was, however, one new addition to the camp that caused me to do a double-take when I saw it. The corpse of the yian garuga, gutted and partly carved up, sitting right at the edge of the light from the fire.

Forget not remembering making the new armor, I'd done that before. But I had no idea how I'd got a three or four ton carcass back to camp in the shape I was in. Dragged it, probably, going by the track that led to the edge of the bluff. That I could believe. But getting it up the bluff...

Well, maybe Rune had done it for me.

It didn't matter, I decided. I'd had my fight, and I had my new armor. Anything beyond that was unimportant. I turned my attention away, dismissing it.

Rifle and Rune were sitting near the fire that Shadow Stalker had started days ago now. It looked as if it hadn't gone out since it was made, though I knew it had, and the pile of wood chips beside it had shrunk noticeably. We started over, and both of them turned to us.

"So, how'd he do?" Rune asked Shadow Stalker as we walked over. She elbowed Rifle. "I got a bet going that his dick's under four inches. Rifle says over."

"Fuck you, bitch," Shadow Stalker said. "We weren't fucking. We were just... apologizing to each other."

"Coulda fooled me, the sounds you two were making," she sneered. "Seriously, are you two people, or monkeys? Fucking uncivilized."

"I sense a certain level of hostility," I said.

"You think?" Rune asked, voice dripping sarcasm.

"Putting aside the topic of how civilized it was to-" Rifle started, his voice heated, then stopped and shook his head. "No, let me start over. I want this to be professional, even if you two aren't." He stopped again. "Alright, full disclosure. I'm a bit pissed off. Give me a minute."

I nodded, flushing slightly behind my mask. Rune's crude taunting? Not a problem. It didn't even bother me. Rifle, though, actually made me feel a bit bad.

Not much. But some. I hadn't treated him well recently.

"If I had the chance, I'd have done it twice as hard," I said, and Shadow Stalker snickered, squeezing my hand even tighter.

"Twice as hard at least," she added.

"Disgusting," Rune muttered.

"I ain't gonna apologize to you, bitch," Shadow Stalker said, flipping her off with her burned arm. "If you've got a problem, fucking come at me, I'll kick your ass."

Rune glowered at her, hunching down in her chair, but didn't respond.

"Thought so," Shadow Stalker said with satisfaction.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something to back up Shadow Stalker and put down Rune, but I stopped. It might have been my injuries, or the fact that I'd made a kill recently, or just having spent some quality time with my girlfriend for the first time in a week, but I just... didn't feel like it. Joking was one thing, getting people wound up. I'd always be up for that. But for the first time in what seemed like ages, I didn't want to start a fight. It was hard to put my finger on, but looking back it was clear that ever since my fight with Shadow Stalker – our close brush with breaking up – I'd been more antsy, or edgy, or just plain mean.

Saying that I'd been in a bad mood made it seem a bit pathetic, all things considered, but it wasn't all that inaccurate.

 _Shit._

"Aw, fuck it," I said, stepping toward the fire and flopping into a lawn chair. It creaked under my weight, and I felt the fabric getting poked and torn by my armor's spikes, but I didn't care. "Can we just not fight, for now?"

"Not that I'm against that," Rifle said, eying me up and down, "but I have to ask why."

"No reason," I said. "I'm just not feeling it right now."

"Yeah, I get you," Shadow Stalker said. "I'll call a truce if the- if she will."

I looked to Rune, raised an eyebrow. Or tried to, given that said eyebrow – and the eye below it – weren't there anymore.

Apparently, Rune didn't appreciate the effect. "Holy shit," she said, raising a hand to her face. "Hunter. Your eye."

I snickered. "You should see your face," I said. It seemed funnier than it should have. Funnier than most things had been in a while. Also, it pretty firmly answered the question of who'd done the first aid.

"Forget my face!" she burst out, standing up and trotting over to me. "You lost your eye!"

"Back off," I said, batting at her as she reached for me. "I'm fine. It'll grow back."

She subsided, though her expression remained worried. "Really?"

"I assume so," I said, shrugging lightly.

"You don't know!?"

I flapped my hand in her face, and she sputtered, flailing at it and – finally – backing away.

"Calm down," I said. "Everything else grew back, eventually. Besides, I've got a burst eardrum, broken leg, broken arm, and only about a fifth of my blood, right now. Eye's the least of it. If my power can solve the rest, I doubt an eye's gonna give it much trouble."

"Yeah, but still," she protested, eyes still fixed on my empty socket.

"I'm fine," I repeated. "So, can I take it this means you're alright with a truce?"

Rune hesitated for a moment, then sat back down, eying Shadow Stalker. "I guess," she said. "Is she hurt too?"

"First and second degree burns, and some cracked ribs," Rifle said. "Not the best, but nothing compared to Hunter. I'm just glad we had the antibiotics. Burns are easy to get infected. Almost a guarantee, out here." He paused for a second. "The chemical washes helped too. No telling what the long-term effects might have been, otherwise."

"Oh, right," I said, snapping my fingers. "Flaming chemicals. Shoulda thought of that."

"Well, it's a good thing someone did," Rifle said. "Point is, it should be alright, assuming we get back to civilization soon." He paused squinting at me. "I'd have thought you'd be more worried, given your relationship."

"I'm too tired to be worried," I said. "Plus, I dunno, maybe my power's given me a screwed-up sense for this kinda thing. Hard to judge injuries if I can mostly just ignore them until they go away."

"Huh," Rune said. "That's deeper than I'd expect, from you."

"Yeah, well, it's been on my mind recently," I said. "Powers, and how they influence the way we see things."

"That's as good a lead-in as I could have hoped for," Rifle said. He crossed his arms. "We need to talk. About the team, and about how you've been acting." He turned to Shadow Stalker. "Both of you."

"No doubt," I said, inclining my head to him. Not a nod, not quite a salute. Acknowledging a rival, maybe.

"I guess," Shadow Stalker said. "Honestly I'm finding it hard to care about much, right now."

"Hunter?"

I looked to Rune. She had her head lowered, her hair spilling out of her hood, hiding her eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Are you really going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine," I said. "Been hurt worse."

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Maybe not," I admitted. "But I'll be alright, or close enough to it."

She just nodded.

Still, she had a point. It was possible I'd been hurt worse, once or twice in the past, but if I was honest with myself I kind of doubted it. Now that I wasn't moving, and didn't have Shadow Stalker distracting me, my injuries were starting to make themselves known. My arm and leg were swollen badly under their bandages, the broken bones leading to inflammation, and the open wounds were probably already infected due to most of a day slogging through the forest after rolling around in the ash and soot of the burned observation post. My gut wound throbbed, still not closed, and I could feel a constant stabbing ache in my empty socket that felt like it went all the way through my skull and out the back of my head. The burst eardrum didn't help.

The less said about my burns, the better.

"I kinda didn't want to say, but she has a point," Shadow Stalker said. "You look like shit, babe."

"You should see the other guy," I said, brushing off her concern. For some reason it bugged me more to hear it from her than from Rune. "Besides, you weren't complaining five minutes ago."

Rifle shuffled his chair forward a bit, closer to the fire. "Worrying about each other can wait," he said. "I really do think we should talk. There's a lot that needs to be aired out, and I don't think it can wait any longer."

"Agreed," I said. "I'll start. I know I've been acting like a douche for a while now, and I'm sorry. Sort of."

"Care to explain that?" Rifle asked.

"Not much to it," I said. "I'm not actually that sorry, and I'm not gonna lie about it. I don't mind upsetting people. But... I guess I regret taking it a bit far. So I'm sorry for that, even if I'm not really bothered about the rest. I'll try to do better."

Rifle reached up to run a hand through his hair, and blew out a quick breath through his nose. "I don't think that's enough," he said, "and honestly I was expecting more. You nearly died, Hunter. You and Shadow Stalker both. Is this all you have to say?"

"Don't bring me into this shit," Shadow Stalker said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. "Hunter and me already worked out our problems. We're golden. If you two want to have a pissing contest, go ahead, but I'm gonna go and take a nap while you do it."

"I don't-" Rune said, then stopped. Her mouth screwed up for a moment. "I don't want to agree with _her_ , but I also don't think we should fight. I really like the idea of a truce. If there's a problem, we should try to work together and solve it. If Hunter's willing to try to do better, that's good. We should help him."

Rifle glanced around between us. Nobody was glaring, but nobody was smiling either. "Damn it," he said, leaning back and sinking into his chair. "It's not enough. You can't just... cause all these problems, then say 'oh, sorry, I'll do better'," he waved his arms dismissively. "I thought we'd get better after the thing with the dragon. We talked. It wasn't much, but I thought we all got a better sense of each other. What our hopes and fears were for the team. But then you pulled that shit with the Blangonga-"

"Hey, I thought we were good with that," I said, my eyebrows – eyebrow, rather – lowering. "If you had a problem you should have said something."

"How could I!?" he burst out. "You sprung it on us out of nowhere! And yes, it was too good an opportunity to pass up, but then your ex-teammates showed up! And yes, they helped, but then one of them shot at Shadow Stalker, and then you two broke up, and then I find out-" he paused, momentarily lost for words, "all this _fucking shit_ we're in with the Protectorate, and then we're out here and you nearly die! For _fuck's sake_ Hunter! Jesus Christ!"

He stopped his tirade and flopped back into his seat again. I just sat there, not knowing what to say. Nobody else seemed to either, so we all just sat in silence except for the crackle of the fire.

Eventually Rifle waved a hand at me, lazily, as if he were out of energy. "Sorry," he said. "I know that it wasn't all your fault. You have no control over what the Protectorate does, and you couldn't have guessed we'd be up against a... super monster, or whatever that yian garuga was. You don't control your old teammates either. So, I'm sorry. But whether you're at fault or not, you're always in the middle of things, and you never really make them better."

"Uh, apology accepted," I said. "And I guess I'm sorry too, at least a bit more than I was a minute ago. I didn't realize you were stressing over this stuff so much."

"How could I not be?" he asked, rolling his eyes at me.

"Dunno, I guess," I said. "But I wasn't. At least not the same way. Suppose we're just different people, that way."

"I suppose we are," he said. "So what do we do about this? We can't go on as we have been."

"I don't think that's gonna be an issue," I said. I had no intention of telling him that some of the problem had probably been me missing Shadow Stalker, that I'd been taking it out on him and Rune, and that it likely wasn't going to happen again. At least not as badly. "But if you want to hash things out, then I guess I've got something to say too. Something you might not like to hear."

"Hit me," Rifle said, sounding more resigned than worried.

I felt a moment of doubt, but shook it off. "Alright, whatever. Here goes," I said, leveling my finger at him. "You're not a fighter." I pointed at Rune next. "You either." I waggled my thumb between myself and Shadow Stalker. "We are. Arguments? Disagreements?"

"Yes," Rifle said, leaning forward. "For starters-"

"Denied," I said, raising my voice and chopping my hand down. "Would you like me to bring up our respective track records? Tally up how much damage we've both done? Remind me, apart from the crab's claw, have you even got a serious wound on _any_ of our targets?"

He sat back, scowling.

"Thought not," I said. "You want to bring up the problems I've caused? That's fine. It's fair, even, and I'm sorry I can't apologies more for them. But you don't get to ignore the good I've done. I've saved the lives of everyone here, just for starters."

"If you're saying you should be allowed to do what you want just because you're a better fighter, or just because you've saved our lives, I'm going to shut you down," Rifle said. "Hard."

"Nah," I said, brushing away his concern. "Nothing like that. But like I said, I've been thinking about things. About different perspectives. How we don't see eye to eye. _Why_ we don't see eye to eye. And, you know, something occurred to me."

"Don't be dramatic," Shadow Stalker said, rapping a knuckle against my helmet. "Spit it out."

"Jeez, fine," I said. "Does nobody but me have a sense of drama, or presentation?"

"Honestly? No," Rifle said.

"Agreed," Rune said. "No."

"Nope," Shadow Stalker added. "If you've got something to say, just say it."

I sighed. "Okay. I guess it's pretty simple. Me and Shadow Stalker are fighters. You two aren't. Rifle, you're a thief. You like things to run smoothly, to get jobs done clean. You follow rules, your own or others, I don't think it matters. You like to prepare, and to have all the necessary info. Cross 't's, dot 'i's. All that shit. Right?"

"We're doing the psychoanalysis thing again?" he asked.

"Just answer," I said. "Yes or no."

He shrugged. "Yes. Hardly a major insight."

"Good enough," I said, and turned to Rune. "You're a villain," I said. "You like having a gang. People to watch out for, and who watch out for you. You like working together, and I don't think it's a stretch to say that you prefer to follow than to lead. More, Rifle's style appeals to you. Right?"

"I guess," she said. "But so what? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," I said. "Not a thing. Except, that's not how we work." I reached up to pat Shadow Stalker's arm. Her unburned arm. "We like to fight. We like to go in and brawl. We like to pit strength against strength, and come out on top. We get something out of that. Something real. And I'm not just talking about like, the gear and shit I make." I turned and met Shadow Stalker's eyes, hand still on her arm. "You felt it too, right?"

"Yeah," she said. Her voice was low, something I'd describe as almost smoky, though that might have just been my own wishful thinking. "It was something, alright."

I gave her arm a quick squeeze, then let go, turning back to Rifle and Rune, across the fire from us.

"You guys like to execute plans. Or I guess to achieve goals, maybe. Either way, the fighting's secondary."

"Hold on," Rune broke in. "I used to get in fights all the time, even before I got my power. I ended up in fucking prison, for fuck's sake. Don't tell me I don't like to fight!"

"Okay, maybe you do," I said. "But would you fight for no reason, just to get in a fight? Because I would. Stalker?"

"Hell yes," she said. "Back in Brockton Bay, I couldn't sit still unless I went out and caused some shit once in a while."

"You mean unless you went out and picked off some easy targets," Rune said, her voice heating up. "You didn't fight. Not against anyone who could fight back, and sure as fuck not against anyone that could beat you!"

I expected Shadow Stalker to get angry at that. She didn't. She didn't argue the point, even. "That was then," she said. "This is now."

"We fought the yian garuga," I pointed. "Believe me, it could have beaten us. Killed us. It nearly did."

That, Rune had no answer for.

"So what's the point of all this?" Rifle asked. "That, what, you two are stronger than us? I can't argue that. It's clear that you are. But that doesn't mean you should be able to call the shots, or get off scott free when you fuck things up."

"You're really harping on that," I said. "I told you that's not my point. Shit, I'm the first person to say that I shouldn't be in charge of anything. Worst idea I've heard all week, right there." I turned to Shadow Stalker again. "And, sorry babe, but you're no better. No offense meant."

"Whatever," Shadow Stalker said. "You're not wrong. And don't call me 'babe'. Doesn't feel right."

"Honey?" I tried. "Sweetie-pie? Sugar Biscuit?"

She clocked me, fist across my mouth.

"Stalker?" I asked, without missing a beat. "My huntress? My scary fucking goddess of death?"

She growled, leaned in toward me, and ran a hand across my throat. I leaned in as well, smiling. She wore her costume, mask and body suit, but no cloak, and without it the flesh of her neck was visible, smooth, dark, and corded with muscle.

Rifle cleared his throat.

"Okay, right. Case in point, that," I said, quickly leaning away from Shadow Stalker. She mimed a bite at me, clacking her teeth behind her mask, and I had to clear my own throat before I could go on. "Yeah, we'd be terrible leaders. The worst."

"So what, then?" Rifle asked, throwing his hands up. "Get to the point!"

"Okay," I said. "The core of this? Why we've been having problems? We're all different people, with different perspectives. Doesn't matter why. Different powers, different lives, different personalities, whatever. We've talked, before, about what we all want." I left unsaid that I was pretty sure that none of us had been entirely honest, then. "But we never got to know each other. What I want pisses you off. What you want pisses me off."

"If it pissed you off, you should have said something," Rifle said. "We could have sat down, come to an agreement."

"We are," I said. "Right now. But that's part of my point. This sit-down? It's not me. Before, just going my own way and saying 'fuck it' to anything else? That was me saying 'this bugs me, fix it'. But it didn't work. Because we're different people, and we say things in different ways, and you didn't hear me. So now I'm reaching out. Doing it your way. Because this is what works for you."

He didn't say anything immediately, just stared at me.

"Or I could be wrong," I said. "Maybe I'm just making myself look more retarded than I actually am. That's a possibility."

"Whether you're right or wrong doesn't matter, I think," Rifle said. "I'll take the offer in the spirit it's given. I've already said that I want this team to work. I also said I'd like to be friends, if possible, though not in so many words. Friends might be too high a bar to aim for-"

"Yeah, it totally is," Shadow Stalker said.

"Goes double for me, bitch," Rune answered her.

Rifle let out an annoyed breath and raised a hand to his hair, then dropped it into his lap. Frustrated. "No surprise there. You're right, Hunter, in sentiment if not in fact. Teammates need to know each other if they're going to work together. I'm not going to apologize for how I've acted, and I don't expect you will either." I closed my mouth, on the verge of saying exactly that. "Instead, let me ask this. On the presumption that I'm still team leader, what's your suggestion? How should we resolve our clash of personalities? How do you see us working together, going forward?"

"It's not too complicated," I said. "Me and Shadow Stalker get along-"

"One way to put it," Shadow Stalker whispered to me.

"You and Rune get along," I said, ignoring her as best I could. "I think I'd get along with Rune, well enough at least, but that's not gonna happen now. I made my choice." Rune sagged, slightly. "I think you and Shadow Stalker could get along too, to some extent. But you and me? No. Rune and Shadow Stalker? It's a joke to even suggest it. And, you know, I don't think we can work together very well, either."

Rifle scowled, glancing toward the fire. "So, what? We go to the Protectorate? Ask for new teams? We all agreed we're only likely to get one shot at legitimacy. If we split up, it's a long waiting list at best, but more likely they'll press for a prison sentence. Maybe we'll get out when we turn eighteen, but I doubt any of us want that."

"And you said you didn't have a sense for drama," I said, grinning at him. "Don't be such a little bitch, dude. We've got two pairs of people who get along here, so we stick with each other. Me and Stalker, and you and Rune. Easy peasy. We go out and hunt together, but otherwise we stay separate. If we need to communicate, we can do it over e-mail or whatever. Keep it, I dunno, impersonal."

"That's such a... blunt, brute force solution," Rifle said. "Besides, I can already see a million ways it could go wrong. How are we going to practice or work on strategies if we never see each other outside Pangaea?"

"Fuck, I dunno," I said. "You're the boss, you figure something out. Look, you're missing the point. You want to do all the prep work, come up with a plan, research the target, brown-nose the bosses? Great. Do it. Figuring out that kinda thing, how we can practice or whatever, that's part of it, and I'm sure Rune would be happy to help. Me and Stalker? We can track, navigate terrain, move fast, and we can fucking _fight_. Anything else? It's on you. Figure it out. That's the only way this team is gonna work."

"Wait," Rune said. "Wait a minute. I'm not cool with this." She glanced from me to Rifle, pointedly ignoring Shadow Stalker. "We can't just give up, split up the team. Hunter, we worked together to get the garuga's tail off. Rifle, you and me helped a lot against the blangonga. Your missile, my rock, without them it would have got Hunter twice over. We saved him. You can't say that didn't mean anything, that it's just- just fucking business. There's gotta be a bond in there somewhere, even if it's just starting to grow."

"There probably is," I said. "But right now I'm not sure it matters. Maybe one of you's smart enough to figure out a better way. I'm not." I cocked my head, thinking. "Bit of a refrain recently, that."

"It's a way for you to call us idiots without actually saying it," Rifle said. "Don't pretend it's not. And Rune... You're right, but so is he."

"If it helps, we can set up team meetings," I said. "briefings or whatever." I glanced at Shadow Stalker again. "Probably gonna be a few weeks before we can get our next mission. There's some time to think, come up with a better idea."

"Fuck that," Shadow Stalker said. "Actually, fuck both those things you said. No fucking way am I joining a drum circle or whatever. Not as long as _she's_ in it." She pointed her chin at Rune. "And for the other thing? Bitch, I killed the monster with one arm. I'm good to go right fucking now."

I didn't argue. It would have been more convincing if she wasn't dozing, head bobbing, nearly asleep and half curled-up around her bandaged arm.

Still, I wouldn't have bet against her in a fight, half-dead and half-asleep or not. So what did I know?

"I think that's everything said that needs to be," I mused, glancing around. Nobody looked happy. Rifle was frowning, lips pressed together and brows lowered over worried eyes. Probably picking apart the conversation, looking for a strategy to... get whatever he wanted to get. Rune was hunched over, hands pressed together in her lap, face hidden by hood and hair. I'd pretty much smashed any hope she had of turning the team into a surrogate gang. That had to sting.

Shadow Stalker... Well, she was hurt, exhausted, and it occurred to me that out of all of us I might have the least idea of what she wanted. In the short term? Me, hopefully. Her ultimate goal was still to kill the dragon that had destroyed her city, I was pretty sure. But between the short and long terms? I didn't really have a clue.

"I don't like it," Rifle said. "No real apologies. No compromise. None of us get what we want out of this. Even you two have to admit it's a kind of shitty deal."

"I've had worse," Shadow Stalker said. "Better than pretending we're all one big, happy family. No way that could have lasted."

"It never even started," I said. "Not really. And frankly? Fuck apologies, and fuck compromise. Go with what works."

Rifle sighed again. "Go with what works," he echoed. "Let's just hope it does work, because I think we all know that things are just going to get harder from here."

I nodded, and so did Shadow Stalker. Even Rune did, reluctantly.

What he was talking about was obvious. We'd just done our first four-star mission. At least our first official one. We'd taken down the target, but two of us had been badly wounded.

Our track record, frankly, wasn't looking good. We'd nearly failed our very first mission, and only the intervention of a pair of villains saw us get away mostly intact. We'd taken out our next target – the kut-ku – but the mission after that we'd been beaten down by the daimyo hermitaur. We'd almost failed the next mission, too, though that had been more my fault, and deliberate, but all the more damning for it. The blangonga had been unauthorized, and as much a strike against us as a point in our favor. Now this.

We'd had one outright failure, three – or four – marginal successes, and only a single clean win. Even then we'd suffered injuries. The fact that we'd done it on a heavily accelerated schedule was still a plus – a big one – but even so, it wasn't looking good.

Hunting four star or even five star monsters for the next year or two... Well, I could think of worse things. But I could also see it going badly. As a team, we weren't cohesive. We probably never would be. We needed momentum, to keep moving forward, keep pressing toward our goals. At least long enough to find some kind of equilibrium. Whether we did it the way I'd suggested – me and Shadow Stalker doing our thing, Rifle and Rune doing theirs – or in some other way, it didn't really matter. But thinking ahead, considering fighting more yian garugas, or daimyo hermitarus, or other monsters – khezus, plesioths, basarios', even big guns like monoblos' – it would pale quickly. At least it would as long as we were under watch, not choosing our own missions, doing what we were told, and always worrying about whether someone would pull the plug on us if we screwed up.

We needed another leg-up. Some way to reach higher. To graduate to the big-leagues. We were already doing missions that were leaps and bounds above what heroes our age should be. We just needed _one more_ big leap to push us over the top, I was sure of it.

It was something to think on. For the moment, though, I had other priorities.

"Worry about it tomorrow," I said, beginning the laborious process of standing up. "Or the next day, or whenever. For now, I'd say we should start getting packed. Get ready to head out."

Rifle looked upward, tracking the sun as it got lower in the sky. It was already chilly at our high elevation, even with the fire, and by the time we were ready to head out it would be getting close to full dark. Not the best time to be starting a trek. But at the same time, if we didn't leave now we wouldn't be back at the rendezvous point when the next cart came by. With our injuries it was better to get back sooner rather than later, and with the yian garuga dead it wasn't likely we'd encounter another large monster on the way.

Rifle apparently agreed, because he nodded to himself, then looked back at me. "Alright. Rune and I will get ready. You two get some rest." I raised my eyebrow at him, or tried, but it seemed he got my point. "Two pairs, right? I think Rune and I should probably talk a bit, and that's not going to happen with you two around."

"Fair," I said, then leaned sideways and nudged Shadow Stalker. "Come on, let's get to bed."

She jerked, raising a head that had been just on the verge of falling asleep. "What? You and me? Together?"

"Sure, why not?" I asked, then turned to Rifle and Rune. "Any complaints?"

"Plenty," Rifle said.

"Perfect," I said, holding my hand out to Shadow Stalker. She took it, and I stood, hauling her to her feet in the same motion. "Shall we?"

"Sure," she said, glancing toward Rifle for a moment. "Why not?"


	27. Explore the Unexplored

**Chapter Twenty Seven: Explore the Unexplored**

"-currently believed to be the largest portal to Pangaea in the world."

I perked up, sticking my head out of the kitchenette, turning my attention to the TV.

"Only recently discovered on the border between the Central African Republic and Sudan, current estimates are that the portal has been open for over eight months. With the low population density in the area, combined with already frequent monster attacks as well as dissident military and villain groups, local governments have had little ability to survey the area, possibly explaining how the portal could go unnoticed for such a long period of time."

"Hey!" I shouted into the bedroom. "You hearing this?"

"Not now, babe, I'm on the phone!" Shadow Stalker answered.

I shrugged, moving back into the kitchen and turning off the stove, then wandering over to a couch and flopping down. I absently spooned mac and cheese into my mouth as I watched. The same newscaster was on screen – a local woman I hadn't heard of before, with dyed blonde hair and a red blouse – so I figured I hadn't missed much.

"-that over eighty wyverns have already exited the portal, including members of two new sub-species never before encountered. As there is evidence of second-generation nesting, the GCMC issued a class-one call to arms nearly an hour ago, already accepted by the Protectorate, the Guild, the Trolljegere, and the Schildjager, as well as a number of smaller teams. However, while Sudan is a signatory of several international treaties on the hunting and containment of monsters, the CAR is not, and as such the United Nations has yet to authorize a task force."

"Hey!" I called out again, leaning back and dropping my head over the back of the couch to see into the bedroom. Shadow Stalker was there, seen upside-down and out of costume, in a loose t-shirt and pajama pants, lying on her stomach on the unmade bed and kicking her legs as she talked on the phone. She shot me an annoyed glance, pointing at the phone. I ignored it. "Who are the Trolljegere and the Schildjager?"

"God," she said, covering the phone's pickup with her hand. "No idea who the Schild-whoever are, but the Trolljegere are some big-name team from like, Norway or somewhere. All about going to other countries and closing portals. The government's kinda pissed at them, because they closed a few portals here that they weren't supposed to. They're pretty strong, I guess. Now fuck off, I'm talking to Emma!"

I nodded, and she turned back to the phone. My eyes roamed over her, the curve of her back, her butt, her legs.

"Hey!" I called out a third time.

"What!?" she snapped, glaring at me.

"You're hot!"

She snorted, trying and failing to hold in a laugh, a reluctant grin spreading on her face. I gave her a thumb's up, and she rolled her eyes at me, then grabbed a pillow and threw it expertly, directly into my face. I sat back up, facing the TV again, and she went back to chatting. I could still hear her, though I probably wasn't supposed to.

"Yeah," she said, then paused. I could vaguely hear Emma on the other end, though I couldn't make out what she was saying. "Nah, he called me hot," Shadow Stalker continued, followed by a more high-pitched response from Emma. "Shut uuup," Shadow Stalker said, drawing the word out. "Oh my god, you're such a bitch."

I tuned her out. There was a different person on the TV now. A guy wearing a Protectorate uniform, sitting beside another guy in a cheap-looking suit, with hair that looked more like plastic than anything.

"-can't do anything yet," the Protectorate guy said. He had a serious expression, his hair was gray at the temples, and he wore those little round glasses I associated with people in sweater-vests on public-access TV. "Despite the danger, the portal spans two countries, with very different policies. Given the state of international law regarding Pangaea, we've been able to send exploratory teams through from the Sudan side, but that's all."

So, the same topic. Good.

"Surely the government in the Central African Republic realizes the danger, though," the plastic-haired guy said.

"I'm sure they do," the Protectorate guy responded. "However the CAR, like a number of other nations, receives a great deal of international aid in response to attacks on their territory. They've also passed laws laying claim to all the monsters found within their borders, stating that they are a national resource. Due to those and other factors, there has been pressure from neighbors, as well as multinational groups such as the GCMC, for the CAR to accept the standard policy of closing most portals as quickly as possible. It's likely that President Sarandji is unwilling to make a decision too quickly, given the risk of setting a precedent that might lead to greater international pressure on his regime."

"There have been allegations that the aid money, meant for reconstruction and relief of displaced citizens, has been misused, have there not?" Plastic man asked.

"Allegations of that sort are beyond my purview, I'm-"

 _Politics. Boring._

I switched the channel, surfing around aimlessly, spooning the last of the mac and cheese from my oversized mixing bowl into my mouth, chewing absently. TV had never been my thing. I hadn't had one growing up, and I'd never really got in the habit of just vegging out to it like so many people seemed to. But if nothing else, flipping channels and searching for something interesting was a good time-waster on its own. A nap would have been better, but my bed was currently occupied.

Of course, a bed occupied by Shadow Stalker had its own appeal, but she'd already kicked me out once, and very literally. Climbing back in would just be asking for a repeat.

"Hey!"

"Jeez!" I swore, half jumping off the couch and spinning around, barely avoiding tossing the empty mixing bowl through the glass coffee table.

Shadow Stalker stood right behind me, leaning over the couch, her mouth stretched in a wide and very amused grin.

"What are you, a cat?" I asked. "Do you have to sneak up every freaking time I have my back turned?"

She chuckled, watching me as I settled back down, her eyes half lidded. Still drowsy, and very pleased with herself. "Only when you deserve it," she said.

"So always," I said. "Got it."

"Aw, don't pout, babe," she said, lifting an arm and grabbing my head, titling it back and forth. The way she was bent over, legs straight, elbow planted on the back of the couch, it left her very oversized, very loose t-shirt dangling, giving me a very good view.

"Hey, eyes up here," she said, tightening her fist in my hair and yanking my head up. She was smiling, though.

"That's a good view too," I said. "Also, why are you allowed to call me 'babe', but I'm not allowed to call you that?"

She shrugged, drawing my eyes back to the view through the collar of her shirt.

"Because," she said.

"Because why?" I asked.

"Because I say so," she answered.

"Fine," I said. "But I'm gonna have to think of a nickname for you too, you know."

"I think you were onto something good with the whole 'Scary fucking goddess of death' thing," she said, giving my head one last yank before letting go. "Shove over."

I did, and she hopped lightly over the couch, landing with a bounce beside me. I put my arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into me, snugging closer.

Then her hand lashed out, snatching the remote away from me quicker than I could respond.

"Well! Such behavior!" I huffed, and she snickered, a wicked little laugh.

"Who dares, wins," she said, raising the remote and flicking through channels four or five times as fast as I had. She didn't settle on anything, though, just cruising back and forth, only waiting a second or two before changing it again.

I took a moment to look at her arm. It had only been four days, but the bandages were off, and the burns were still evident. Second degree burns, I'd read, didn't tend to scar, though they could result in some changes to the color of the burned skin. With Shadow Stalker though, it was too early to tell.

She caught my glance, but didn't comment. Instead she raised her hand to brush my hair away from my face, and trace a finger around my empty eye socket.

Normally four days would have been time enough to heal just about any injury, but apparently my power worked on quantity of wounds, rather than quality, spreading itself around. I had so many things to heal, and they were all healing at the same slow rate, that I figured it might be another week before everything was done. The obvious, external ones were gone, and thankfully my broken bones seemed to be more or less mended, but my eye hadn't even started to grow back yet, and I still didn't have very good hearing on one side.

"You're sure it'll grow back?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"No clue," I said, taking her hand in mine and bringing it to my lips, kissing her fingers one by one. "I'm not really thinking about it."

She turned back to the TV and started surfing again. "I'd be freaking out, I think," she said. "I mean, it's your fucking eye, Hunter."

I shrugged. "What can I say, I've got a will of steel, and a dong to- Ow."

No knife this time, but a stiff-handed knife-strike to my ribs. Given my injuries, it still hurt. I sighed in contentment, and she shook her head, exasperated but still smiling.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I asked. "Dunno about you, but I'm getting a bit restless being cooped up in here."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, shook her head. "You must be a bad influence on me," she said. "I was about to say that you weren't complaining last night."

I grinned at her, pulled her a bit closer. "I am one hundred percent in favor of a repeat performance," I said. "But I figured I'd at least pretend to have something else on my mind for once."

"Ah, but see, your scheme backfired," she said, leaning closer, almost nose-to-nose with me. "Because I do have something in mind."

"Reveal your nefarious plan," I said.

"Emma reminded me that you promised me a date, last week," she said, raising a finger to poke my cheek. "I intend to collect."

"Dastardly," I said. "What are you thinking?"

She shrugged. "Figured I'd leave that to you," she said.

"So cruel," I muttered. She nodded sagely. "Um, I know a nice place in New York," I mused, staring up at the ceiling, thinking. "Doesn't have a name, and I'm not totally sure it's still running, but-"

"Is this something shady?" she asked.

"Fighting pit, so yeah," I said. "It was great, though. You'd love it."

"You want to take me on a date," she said, "to a fighting pit."

"Well, sort of," I said. "Kinda serious-but-not-serious, you know? But really, cape fights are great fun to watch, and they serve pretty good burgers there, plus a bunch of types of imported beers. They even get some monsters in sometimes. You know, smuggle them in, and have-"

"Try again," she said, deadpan.

"I have literally never been on a date that wasn't in the woods, a random barn, or that involved some kind of violence," I said. "My perspective on this is probably skewed."

"I've _never_ been a date," she said, glancing away. "Not a real one. I don't want my first to be in some dirty fucking pit under New York."

"Ah, sorry," I said more quietly. "Wasn't thinking."

"Do you ever?" she asked, rallying somewhat.

"Not if I can help it," I said. "So, uh... Shit... Too early for dinner and a movie, and I don't know anywhere in the city to even go. You'd murder me if I suggested Taco Bell."

"Slowly," she said. "Painfully."

"Um... Down by the river, maybe?" I ventured. "There's gotta be a park or a boardwalk or something."

"Better," she said. "Where?"

"I have no possible clue," I said. "And no idea how to find out. Ask Emma, maybe?"

She looked at me speculatively for a moment. "There's worse ideas. We can't go in costume, you know."

"Bullshit we can't," I said. "Who's gonna stop us?"

"I don't _have_ a costume right now, Dumbert," she said, poking me in the forehead, rocking my head back slightly. "It got burned to shit and cut up and stuff. They're still repairing it."

"Uh, not to be a downer, but I don't actually own any clothes," I said. "I've got my armor, and workout gear, and that's it."

"Oh," she said, her gaze shifting down, taking in my shirtless, underwear-clad form. "Fuck."

I shrugged. What else could I say?

"Why do you care about the whole 'mask stays on' thing, anyway?" she asked. She sounded confident, but there was a little crease between her eyebrows, barely visible. I didn't answer right away, and the crease got deeper.

I blew out a breath. _Fuck it_. "It's not a big deal," I said. "Honestly, it's mostly just habit."

"The hell it is," she scoffed. "Someone doesn't wear a mask all day every day just out of habit. Not even a weirdo like you. There's a reason."

"Well, yeah, there's a reason," I said. "But not one that's a big deal, or anything. You're gonna laugh when I tell you."

"I won't, if you don't want me to," she said, her expression serious and a bit worried.

I smiled at that, genuine. "Thanks," I said. "I can't remember, did I tell you where I grew up?"

"No," she said. "But I figure it's somewhere out of the way, right? Like, rural or whatever?"

"Yeah," I said. "Up north. Doesn't matter where, exactly. Point is, I grew up without TV, internet, or any of that stuff. Radio was kinda high-tech, for me. I had exactly two friends my whole life-"

"I can guess who," she said.

I nodded acknowledgment. "So, skipping a bunch of stuff, when I hit New York I had no idea what to do. It was easier to just keep the mask on and be Hunter full-time. Kept things simple."

"Is that really all?" she asked.

"Cross my heart," I said, crossing my heart. "No bullshit this time. I never learned how to do the whole city thing, or the friend thing. It was easier to just do the cape thing instead. You can laugh, if you want."

"I'm not gonna laugh," she said. "It's petty, and as shallow as I've come to expect from you. Which explains why you made such a big deal of it."

"I feel like that should be insulting," I said.

"It is," she said with a nod. "It's also true."

"What can I say?" I asked. "There's really not much to me. Gotta keep the mystique up somehow."

"Okay, just asking, but if you grew up in bumble-fuck nowhere, how do you know words like 'mystique'?" she asked.

"I _did_ go to school," I protested. "Come on."

"I thought you said you only ever had two friends," she said.

"I did," I confirmed.

"But you went to school?" she asked. "Like, with other kids?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Never mind," she said, shrugging off my arm and standing up. She tossed the remote to me, and I snagged it out of the air. "I'm going to go shopping, buy you some clothes, and then we're going out. No arguments."

"There's a distinctly non-trivial chance I'm gonna make fools of us both," I pointed out.

"Leave that to me," she said, heading back to the bedroom. She stopped, though, staring through the archway into the kitchenette. "Did you eat six boxes of macaroni?"

"Eight and a bit," I said. "I had leftovers in the fridge."

She sighed, shook her head. "Whatever. What's your pant size?"

"Twenty-eight thirty-four," I said. That much, at least, I knew. From my tinkering, admittedly, but I still knew.

"Shoe size?"

"Twelve-and-a-half."

"Never easy with you, is it?" She leveled a finger at me. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours."

I shrugged, and she went about changing – sadly with the door closed – then headed out. I settled deeper into the couch and continued channel surfing, waiting and doing my best to suppress the anxiety that rose up in my chest.

* * *

Philadelphia, for all that I'd lived in it for a month already, wasn't a city I knew much about. I knew the facts, of course. I could rattle off population, industries, history, geography, street names, public officials, all that stuff. Some I'd learned in school, years ago. Some I'd researched before arriving. All of it, predictably, had been useless.

I'd been completely honest when I'd told Shadow Stalker that I'd never learned how to do the city thing.

Still, I did my best to stay calm and not rubberneck all over the place as I walked along the river, linked arm-in-arm with Shadow-

 _Sophia. Sophia, not Shadow Stalker._

It wasn't easy. I had to fight not to fidget, or tap my shoes against the ground as we walked. They fit, but I'd never worn running shoes before. The jeans were, if anything, worse. They, too, fit. But 'fit' apparently meant something different when you were wearing skinny jeans. The shirt was even tighter, to the point that it felt like a damn straight jacket, but that was apparently part of the 'look'. Not that a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and red sneakers seemed like much of a 'look', to me.

Add in the dark sunglasses needed to hide my empty eye socket and I felt more than a bit ridiculous.

I settled for brushing my hair behind my ear again. I wasn't used to it being so long, and it was a constant annoyance. Any wind blew it all over the place.

"Leave it," Sha- Sophia said. "It looks fine. It looks good. But I gotta say, I'm kind of shocked how fast it's growing."

"There's a reason I shave twice a day," I complained, resisting the urge to scratch at my face. Was scratching something I did, normally? I couldn't remember. Would it be bad to do in public? I didn't have a clue. "Couple years and it'll probably be three times. Or more."

"We could try waxing?" she suggested, and I shuddered.

"Sounds like torture," I said. "Plus, it probably wouldn't take."

"If you're just gonna complain all day, I'll find something else to do," she said.

"Sorry," I said, looking down at her, walking at my side. "Nervous."

She chuckled, and it drew eyes. The path we were walking on wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty either. It bordered on a series of small parks, with stands and little shops. Most of the people I could see had that ineffable quality I associated with 'fashionable', but Sophia still stood out, and I wasn't quite sure why. She wore a black jacket over a purple shirt, thoroughly hiding her burns, and black jeans that were – somehow, magically – tighter than mine. Enough that I'd normally have approved heartily, but given the attention she was getting...

I tried not to stare down every guy we passed. She didn't acknowledge the looks, as if they were nothing more than her due. I'd have said she didn't even notice them, but she was too alert, too sharp, to miss something like that.

"I have to say, I like to see you flustered," she said. "It's cute."

"Cute," I repeated, but decided to let it pass. "The outfit suits you, by the way. For what it's worth, coming from me."

"Emma picked it," she said, shrugging. "She's got a good eye. She picked yours, too."

"I'd dispute the good eye, then," I said.

"That's because you're dumb," she said, stepping sideways, bumping into me. "You're hot, and hot guys look good in anything, so she said to keep it simple. I vetoed the necklace, though."

"Would a necklace look good on me?" I mused.

"If you want to look like a douchebag," she said.

"We'll get one as soon as possible, then," I told her, and she chuckled again, drawing more eyes.

I resisted the urge to glare.

We walked, and talked, until we reached our target. A park, in sight of the bridge, built around a weird, triangular monument. Sophia led me down a brick path, past trees hung with glass chimes with wooden lawn chairs set side-by-side in the grass under them, toward a little floating boardwalk surrounded by water plants, full of circular tables and colorful umbrellas.

"Sit," she said, when we reached a table. "I'll get the food."

I sat, and she walked off, toward a row of food stalls built out of brightly painted shipping containers. I stared for a moment, absorbed in the sway of her hips, then turned toward the water. There were ships anchored nearby, big as well as small. An old-timey warship stood out, and a tall sailing ship beyond it. Probably tourist things, I figured, given the people I could see walking around the warship's deck.

It was almost nice, in a weird way. I felt massively out of place, with no idea what I was supposed to do, or how I was supposed to act. But at the same time, I was doing something I'd never thought I'd be able to. With someone who was, frankly, amazing to be with.

I felt the table shift, and turned, then froze.

It wasn't Sophia sitting across from me.

"Hey Josh," Wingtip said.


End file.
